
Class ^1351S._ 
Book__A!ll_L5 
Copyright W 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




A 




THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 



Little Blossoms 



OF 



Love, Kindness, and Obedience, 



SCATTERED DURING A LIFETIME 

IN HONOR OF 

OUR IMMACULATE MOTHER 

BY 

SISTER MARY AGNES McCANN, 

Of the Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati. 



Volume L 




SISTERS OF CHARITY. 

MOUNT ST. JOSEPH-ON-THE-OHIO, 

1910. 



76 3 s"^^ 



.)\i^^ 



L^ 



ni» 



4 

Id 



|linprimat«r: 



Archiepiscopus Cincinnatensis. 
Cincinnati, die 14° Octobris 1910. 



COPYRIGHT, 1910. 

SISTER MARY AGNES McCANN, 

MOUNT ST. JOSEPH-ON-THE-OHIO. 



PRINTED AND BOUND BY 
THE MOUNTEL PRESS, 
EiaHTH AND SYCAMORE, CrNCINNATI. 

©CLA2V52 *b 



f ^i 



JE0rettr0rJir. 




ME art of poetry is a rare gift of God. " Poeta 
nascitur^ non fit, — tKe poet is born, not made. TKe 
ancients fancied poetry to be tKe daughter of tKc 
KigKest divinity. It Kas ever been in tKe service 
of religion. The psalms of David form tKe most beautiful por- 
tion of tKe written word of God in tKe Old Testament. IKe 
CKurcK incorporated tKem into Ker liturgy. Sacred Hymns occupy 
no mean place in tKe Missal, Breviary, Ritual, and enter large}/ 
into private devotions. Music is a willing Kelpmate of Ker 
Keaven-born sister; united tKey awake in tKe soul deep and Koly 
emotions. 

TKe poems contained in tKis volume were composed by a Sister 
of CKarity, wKose MotKer-House is at Mount St. JosepK-on-tKe- 
OKio, near Cincinnati. TKey cover a large range of subjects. Many 
are in Konor of tKe great mysteries of our Koly religion or in praise of 
saints ; otKers were written to former pupils, to members of Ker 
community, or of Ker family, or to be read at graduating exercises, 
silver or golden jubilees of prelates, pastors, and religious, or to 
console friends bereft by deatK of dear ones ; some were sung in a 
ligKter and playful strain. 

WKatever tKeir tKeme, tKey are melodius and deeply religious. 
TKe sigKt of a star, a flower, a snow-flake, or tKe drooping 
brancKes of a tree, raises tKe mind of tKe poetess to a KigKer 
spKere, to tKe supernatural, to tKe Creator. TKe invisible tKings 



of riim^ writes tKe Apostle of tKe Gentiles^ are understood by 
tKe things that are made. These poems taken as a whole reflect 
the points of the sublime meditation often proposed at the end of 
the Spiritual Exercises to obtain the perfect love of God: all crea- 
tures are God s gift. He is in them^ works through them and all 
their perfections come from llim^ their source^ as the rays of light 
come from the sun. 

The public is indebted for the pleasure and benefit derived 
from these poems to the persistent pressure of friends, which pre- 
vailed on the gifted authoress to have them appear in print. 

BisKop of Grand Rapids. 



^nhtx nxtb ^thltntxon^ 



PAGE 

Prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus H 

To Mother Regina Mattingly. 

The Immaculate Conception 12 

St. John the Baptist I4 

To Most Rev. J. B. Pur cell, D.D. 

St. Vincent de Paul jg 

Mary 21 

All Souls Day 22 

Sayings of the Saints 24 

To Sister Mary Assisium McCann. 

Victory Over Self-Lo ve 26 

From "Jesus Living in the Priest." 

Deiparae Immaculatae 3q 

Easter 3j 

St. Thomas ,2 

To Very Rev. Thomas S. Byrne, D.D. 

Twin Feasts ^3 

St. Agnes-in-Secundo 04 

Dedication Poem ^^ 

Chapel of the Immaculate Conception, Mount St. Joseph. 

Our Holy Father 4q 

Leo XIII. 

The Jordan ^2 

The Magi and the Innocents 44 

Mother Seton's Centennial 45 

My Sister's Statue 4g 

To Sister Mary Assisium McCann. 

The Drooping Birch in Front of the Mother-House 49 

The Drooping Birch in Winter 50 

Friendship ^ - 

Spring 52 

Our Flag 53 

Written for Rev. J. M. Mackey's Address in Eden Park. 

Bleeding Hearts 54 

The Stars cc 

Last Day of March 55 

The Dying Year's Message 5g 

Cedar Grove Alumnae Toast 57 

Soliloquy cj 

Retrospect ^g 

A Wish ^'^*''"'^!^!!^!!!''!!^;'' 58 

1 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

PAGE 

"Why are Women With Us, Then?" 59 

Answer to Dr. W. W. Dawson's Question. 

Confiteor 60 

To Sister Frances Stace. 

Thoughts 61 

For an Album 62 

A Wish 62 

First December Eighth in New Chapel 63 

To Mother Sebastian Shea. 

June 4, 1883 64 

Death of Mother Regina Mattingly. 

In Memoriam 64 

Rev. William Fogarty, Springfield, O. 

A Cypress Branch 65 

To Dr. Phineas S. Conner. 

A Christian Death 66 

Friend of Sister Cornelia. 

To a Mother 67 

A Tribute of Thanks 68 

To Mrs. A. Devereux. 

Greetings 70 

To General Arthur Devereux. 

May Offering 70 

A Souvenir 71 

For an Album 72 

A Christmas Wish 72 

Air Castles 73 

Treasures of the Deep 73 

Shadows 76 

The Watchers 77 

Sisters Gertrude, Ignatia, Francesco and Mary Agnes. 
A Wish 79 

To Josie Harvey. 

Four O'clock Warbler 80 

Happy Birthday 80 

5. R. S. 
A Prayer 81 

M. R. 
In Adverse Hours 82 

Day of Profession 83 

Sister Mary Assisium McCann. 
Acrostic 84 

To Miss Marie McCullough. 
Quod Non Aeternum, Nihil Est 85 

Sister Francesca Cannon. 

2 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

PAGB 

Christmas Greeting, 1900 85 

Sister Irene Grauien. 
Christmas Greetings, 1901 87 

Sister Mary Thomas Nestor. 

"Domine, Adauge Mihi Fidem" 88 

A Day Dream 89 

Sister Agnes Loretto McCann. 
Love's Whisper 90 

Mother Mary Blanche Davis. 
Life's Lessons 91 

Sister Mary Justine Masterson. 
Once I Knew a Lily 91 

Sister Agnes Loretto McCann. 
Feast of the Purification , 92 

Sister Leona Murphy. 
New Little Martha 93 

Sister Leona Murphy's Niece. 

Snowfiakes 94 

The Old and New Year 95 

A Request 96 

Statue of Our Lady on the Immaculata Tower 97 

Revere the Physician 98 

Dr. Anderson, Colorado Springs. 

The Crocus 99 

Daily Needs 99 

Friendship 99 

Christmas Message 100 

General Palmer, Colorado Springs. 

Memento Homo 100 

"Scio Cui Credidi" 101 

"Noli Esse Incredulus, Sed Fidelis" 101 

Holy Saturday 101 

Kindness , 101 

"Quae Infra Nos, Nihil Ad Nos" 102 

Unspeakable Is God 102 

A Wish 102 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

"Mane Nobi=-cum, Quoniam Vesperascit" 103 

The Sisters 103 

Snow 103 

"It is Expedient for You That I Go" 104 

Easter Wish 104 

Miss Sallie James. 
To My Little Ones 105 

My Nieces and Nephews. 

3 



^, 



NDEX AND DEDICATION. 

PAGE 

"Quae Sursum Sunt, Sapite" 105 

Patron Saints 106 

To Sister Agnes Mary Wirries. 

Immaculate 106 

Going, Therefore, Teach 107 

To Sister Mary Florence Kent. 
Bells are Chiming, Hearts Rejoicing Ill 

Most Rev. William H. Elder, D.D. 

Acrostic 112 

Most Rev. William H. Elder, D.D. 
What Anthems Glad, Today are Sung? 113 

Mother Josephine Harvey. 

Where is the Valiant Woman? 115 

Sister Anthony O'Connell. 

The Bells are Pealing Joyously 116 

St. Francis de Sales Church, Walnut Hills. 

Sister Vincent's Greetings to Mother Josephine 117 

I Close My Eyes 118 

St. Paul's Church, Cincinnati, O. 

The Air is Full of Melody 120 

The Immaculata, Mt. Adams. 

'Twas in the Month of Roses 122 

St. Gabriel Church, Glendale, O. 

A Day of Jubilee and Song 123 

55. Peter and Paul Church, Detroit, Mich. 

I am Coming, Dearest Sisters 124 

Sisters Vincent O' Keefe, Baptist Flynn, Cecilia Griffin, 
Dominica Lavin, Xavier Maddock. 

Glad are the Notes of Rejoicing 126 

Sisters Winifred Cumuins, Raphael Murtaugh and 
Cleophas Cummins. 

I Read in a Vision a Story 127 

Sister Martina Byrne. 

Fifty Years Ago, My Jesus! 128 

Sister Hyacinth Sullivan. 

Golden Jubilee of the Immaculate Conception 129 

There are Myriad Stars in Heaven 130 

Sister Martina. 

Half a Century's Passed With its Record 131 

Sister Mary Ignatia Mulcahy. ♦ 

Golden Wedding Greetings 132 

Mr. and Mrs. M. Ohmer. 
Chime the Bells Sweetly, this Glorious June Day 135 

Right Rev. H.Joseph Richter, D.D. 
Silvery Notes of Joy and Gladness 136 

Right Rev. William H. Elder, D.D. 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

PAGE 

Why Sound Sweet Notes of Gladness? 138 

Who Touched the Chord of Music? 140 

Very Rev. William H. Sidley. 

"Tu Es Sacerdos in Aeternum" 142 

Rev. James Burns. 

We Meet, Today, Dear Father 144 

'Tis a Season, Dear Father, of Gladness 145 

Rev. Father Bernardine, C.P. 

With Silvery Notes the Joy Bells Chime 146 

Rev. Francis Varelman. 

'Round About You Here, Today 148 

Assembled Today, Where So Many 149 

Here. Tonight, With Pride and Pleasure 149 

There are Silvery Sounds of Gladness 151 

St. Patrick's Church, Pueblo, Col. 

There is Joyousness of Spirit 152 

St. Joseph Church, Springfield, O. 

Far Above Our "Smoky City" 154 

Holy Cross Church, Mt. Adams. 

Today is Filled With Gladness 156 

Mother Mary Blanche Davis. 

Back Thro' Years of Toil and Labor 158 

Sister Vincent O' Keefe. 

Oh, the Earth is Full of Gladness 159 

Sister Flavia Corbett. 

There's a Silvery Note in Our Voices 161 

Sister Emily Egan. 

I Bring You a Message Love-Laden 162 

Sister Leona Murphy. 

A Reverie 163 

Right Rev. Thomas S. Byrne, D.D. 

A Friend Should Call on Festal Days 167 

Sister Adriana Fineran. 

"Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant" 168 

Sister Frances Aloysia Matthews. 

'Tis a Day of Rejoicing, Dear Sister 169 

Sister Florian Crowley. 

Twenty-five Links of Silver are Forming 170 

Sister Mary Pius Handley. 

Five and Twenty Years, Dear Sister 171 

Sister Clara Haller. 

In Your Fresh and Glowing Springtime 173 

Sister Melita Howard. 

Silver Crown for Golden Brow 173 

Sister Aurelia Murphy. 

Just a Line from the One Who is Absent 174 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

5 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

Page 
Could I Steal from the Sunlight its Golden 175 

Sister Ernestine Foskey. 
The Ground is Covered 176 

Sister Agnes Regina Browne. 
The Tinkling Joybells Sweetly Tell 177 

Sister De Lellis Gleason. 
Twenty-five Years for the Master 178 

Sister Henry Maria Moeller. 
The Silver Sheen, Dear Sister 178 

Sister Irene Grauten. 
A May Jubilee 179 

Sisters Olivia Le Fevre and Generosa Quinn. 
Royal Gifts 180 

Sister Mary Adelaide Dilhoff. 
A Jubilee Message 181 

Sister Constance Mc Keown. 

Silver Joybells Tell the Story 182 

We Come, Today, Dear Father 185 

It is Said that Our Birthdays Bring Sadness 187 

Rev. D. Buckley. 

Fifty Years and One Have Glided 188 

Your Birthday Comes in April 189 

Sister Basilia's Friend. 

What Would You Give a Dear, Dear Friend? 190 

Rev. D. Buckley. 

Heart-Gifts are Always Precious 191 

Mr. C. J. Frank. 

Our Birthdays are Mile-Stones 192 

Flowers are the Sweetest Things 193 

Very Rev. William H. Sidley. 

In a Pensive Mood, One Eve, I Wandered 193 

Mother Josephine Harvey. 

I've Been Musing and Dreaming and Thinking 194 

Mother Regina Mattingly. 

Mother, Take Thy Child's Warm Greetings 196 

Mother Regina Mattingly. 

"Howdy, Honey, Howdy" 197 

Sister Victoria Fulwiler. 

This is Mother's Birthday 198 

Mother Blanche Davis. 

Just a Wee Little Verse for Your Birthday 199 

Sister Victoria Fulwiler. 

Years Sixty-One Did You Tell Me? 200 

Sister Agnes Regina Browne. 
Toll the Bells Sadly for Thirty Years Gone 201 

Sister Pelagia Schrader. 

6 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

PAGB 

In Years Gone By, How Oft Have I? 202 

Sister Pelagia Schrader. 
I'm Seated Near My Window 203 

Sister Agnes Loretio McCann. 
From Tiny Lips, but Tiny Words 209 

Rev. A. Drufner. 
How Can a Little Girl, Dear Father? 210 

Rev. A. Drufner. 
With the Joybells of Christmas, Dear Father 211 

Rev. A. Drufner. 
"A Merry Christmas! Father Dear" 211 

Rev. A. Drufner. 

Christmas Wish 212 

We Have Come to Greet You, Father 212 

We Come Here Today With Glad Greetings 214 

Feast of St. Joseph 215 

Happy Feastl Dear Father 216 

When I Kneel in My Place in the Chapel 217 

Sister Gabriella Crow. 
China Anniversary 219 

Sister Basilia Applegate. 
Life's a Warfare, All Must Fight 220 

Sister Victoria Fulwiler. 
Old Friends and Old Relics are Dear to the Heart 221 

Sister Victoria Fulwiler. 
Five Times Eight and Four Times Ten . .222 

Sister Victoria Fulwiler. 
Last Evening I Entered the Chapel 223 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

Were I a Poet of Exalted Vision 225 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

Religion's Garden of Eden 227 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

May Crowning , 227 

St. Mary Church, Chillicothe. 

What Can Children Say, Dear Sister 229 

Sister Eveline Dee. 

Welcome 233 

Most Rev. William H. Elder, D. D. 

Welcome 233 

Most Rev. William H.Elder, D.D. 

Welcome Home 234 

We Learn from Ancient Pages 235 

Farewell 237 

To Rev. F. A. Roth. 
Welcome 237 

7 



INDEX AND DEDICATION. 

Page 
Welcome 240 

Greetings from Little Orphans at Norwood 241 

Orphans to the Ladies' of the Sacred Heart, Clifton 242 

Address of Cummins ville Orphans 243 

To General Michael Ryan. 

To Reverend 244 

Rose D'Erina 245 

Address of Orphans 245 

Friendship 246 

To Sisters Cyril O' Keefe and Serena McCormick. 

Hills and Dales and Streets and Cities 251 

Lol The Infant's Arms are Opened 252 

A "Merry Christmas" to You All 253 

In Memoriam 255 

Sister Anthony O'Connell, Sister Augustine Browne 
and Mr. Joseph C. Butler. 

I've Had a Talk With My Dollie 256 

Last Christmas My Dollie Advised Me 258 

Is There for Sure a Santa Claus? 259 



Jl^glt^iows. 




MOTHER SETON, 

FOUNDRESS OF THE SISTERS OF CHARITY. 



Pragcr to tt|e ^ntteh ^eart oi 3lcsu2. 

Weary, dear Lord, I come to Thee, 

Weary of self and all: 
My burden heavier grows, each day, 

On Thee for help I call. 

The forces, Lord, which in my soul 

So oft have marshalled been, 
I still must summon and array 

Against myself and sin. 

This heart of mine too human seems 

For what it needs must bear; 
Else why this sinking, fainting, dread 

Of each fresh added care? 

I long, my God, for rest and time 

To note my soul's affairs: 
Yet granted not is this dear boon. 

Unanswered are my prayers. 

For others I must think and act. 

Their sorrows strive to heal; 
Tho' aches my heart from weariness. 

All this I must conceal. 

And then, my God, when thus I've toiled, 

How oft it seems in vain! 
For where I've sought meet gratitude, 

I find what brings me pain. 

Did Thy dear Saints, O Lord! feel thus? 

Or patient were they still. 
Whatever sorrow came to them, 

Ordained by Thy blest will? 



11 



How long, O Lord! shall it thus last? 

How long my soul be tossed 
By surging waves of anxious care, 

Of hope deferred or lost? 

Yet, think not, O my dearest Lord! 

The cross Thou'st willed for me 
I'd put aside or change — I ask 

But patient charity. 

Take Thou this heart and in Thine own 

Strengthen its fibres weak. 
Inflame its love — let it come thence, 

Lowly, dear Lord, and meek. 

And then, what comes of joy or ill 
With Thee I'll bravely meet. 

And place, at death, with childlike trust 
Life's burden at Thy feet. 



Hark to sounds that wake the Heavenly Kingdom! 

List to notes of exultation grand! 
Angels chant forth joyously their anthems. 

Gladly praise the Queen of their blest band. 
O Immaculate Virgin! throned above us 

Far beyond the skies. 
Every grace and beauty of the Godhead 

Thy pure soul supplies- 
Looking back thro' many ages, 

Thro' long vistas of departed years, 
Lo! before us springs the world's creation, 

And on high, the Holy pleased appears. 

12 



Eden's beauty is before us, 

Paradise, — a home of priceless worth: 
But a shadow falls upon the picture 

As the Mighty, angered, smites the earth. 
Then arose a Moon of mildest radiance 

And forthsent her rays to light our path: 
Eve, our mother, had brought sin upon us, 

Mary, now, must stay the Eternal wrath. 

Lily purest! wondrous, sweet and fragrant! 

Earthly beauty many a charm bestows; 
But, O Mother! what are all things earthly? 

Naught, compared to thee, thou Mystic Rose. 
Daughter of the Eternal Father! 

Bright effulgence of the Spirit God! 
Mother of the world's Redeemer! 

Mortal's hope! Sweet soil by sin untrod! 
Angels marvel at thy greatness, 

E'en in awe their songs of joy they hush, 
Satan rages and in terror trembles, 

Destined art Thou his proud head to crush. 

O prerogative so grand and glorious! 

Of unnumbered millions, thou alone wast free. 
In thy soul no taint was e'er discovered, 

Tho' all men had suffered sin's decree. 
"Happy fault!" we may cry out most truly. 

For thy soul such beauty to prepare, 
But for it, we had not known a Saviour, 

Had not felt the sweetness of thy care. 

Then, O Mother dearest! fold thy mantle 
Close and tenderly about our hearts; 

Leave no entrance there for Satan, 

Shield us from the foe's incessant darts. 



13 



-%^c^^^S>^^5i^0^ife^t^ 



Human hearts, at best, thou knowest, Mother, 

Are poor offerings for thy Son Divine: 
But presented by thee, fair and stainless, 

Gems of untold value will they shine. 
And, when Jesus sees inwoven 

'Mid the fibres of our hearts, thy Name, 
Graciously He'll bless both gift and giver, 

Sweetly listen to our every claim. 



Softly fall the shades of even 

O'er Judea's kingly hills. 
Gently sinks the moon's calm radiance 

Tingeing all the mountain rills. 
Valley, glen, and peaceful hamlet, 

From the cares of day released. 
Rest beneath night's silver gleaming. 

Spend a happy, homelike feast. 
Turn we hence with chastened feelings 

From this lovely scenery, 
To the hall of mirth and gladness 

Home of gorgeous revelry. 
Naught is wanting to the banquet: 

Viands costly, wines most rare. 
Choicest fruits which earth can offer, 

In profusion — all are there. 
Rich apparel, glittering jewels. 

Ornaments of kingly state. 
Noble damsels, lords, and ladies, 

Herod's feast is for the great. 



14 



-^^;i^^^>.i§5«^^^^^s^g^ 



List! the sound of music ceases 

And the King a vow hath made 
To the daughter of Herodias: 

"All thou askest, shall be paid." 
Had she, then, so young, a maiden, 

Favor great on him conferred? 
Silence reigns o'er all the feasters, 

Each one pond'ring what he heard. 
Could there aught but deed heroic 

From his lips such accents bring? 
Hear ye now, and blush for greatness: 

She had danced before her king! 
Maidenlike, she stands bewildered, 

But Herodias quick draws near, 
Whispers to her child a sentence: 

Herod's heart throbs wild with fear. 
Ghastly turns the royal visage, 

As the maiden calmly said: 
"Thou hast promised: then I ask thee 

To bring here the Baptist's head." 
"Child," he cried, and springing forward, 

Tightly grasped her tiny hand, 
"Take the wealth from out my coffers, 

Half the treasures of my land." 
"No," she said, with woman's firmness, 

"What I've asked, alone I crave. 
King thou art, thy word's been spoken, 

Keep it, then, if thou art brave." 
Mournfully he looked about him, 

"Can he not her wish forego?" 
On each face he reads the sentence, 

"Thou hast sworn and must bestow." 



15 



By his mandate, now a prisoner 

Lay St. John in dungeon cell, 
Thither cast for having censured 

Royal crimes so dark and fell. 
Anxiously the maiden watches 

And ere long, the dish is brought 
Bearing on its silvered surface 

Strangest gift that maid e'er sought. 

Didst thou know, O girl! the treasure 

Which thy hands unworthy hold, 
What to thee were courtly pleasure! 

What to thee King Herod's gold! 
All the Baptist's works examine. 

Visit thou his childish days, 
Near his couch, at life's first dawdling. 

Angel voices sang his praise; 
Mary, too, the Queen of Heaven, 

Smiled upon this chosen one, 
Pressed oft gently to her bosom 

The Precursor of her Son. 
Scarce are days of childhood ended, 

When he l^ees from home and friends: 
Garbs of penance, fasting, preaching. 

Tell to where his heart-pulse tends. 
Then, throughout the desert lonely. 

Hear his burning words exhort 
That the Lord's blest path be straightened. 

That from sin all men depart. 
Flock to him around the Jordan 

Crowds drawn by his earnest voice. 
Pours he on them cleansing waters, 

Bids their hearts in Christ rejoice. 



16 



"is He not the Great Messiah 

Promised and expected long? 
Unfit am I, e'en to loosen 

Of His shoe, the blessed thong!" 
Thus he spoke in loving accents, 

"Than me, you've seen a greater far, 
By His coming, I diminish, 

As the sun makes pale night's star." 

O St. John! what nobler favors 

Could thy God on thee bestow! 
At thy birth such wondrous blessings, 

Thro' thy life, thy God to know. 
Add to this thy Lord's eulogium: 

"Greater man hath ne'er been bom!' 
Earthly riches, earthly splendor, 

Well could meet thy holy scorn. 

Like St. John, in name and labor, 

Is our honored prelate here. 
What of earth to him is sacred? 

Only that which Christ held dear. 
Souls of men produce a yearning 

In true followers of the cross: 
Mourn they not at fleeting sorrows, 

Only the eternal loss. 

As the Jordan's vales resounded 

With the Baptist's earnest word. 
So, throughout life's sinful desert 

Has our Father's voice been heard. 
Oft the wretched heart he's softened 

By his kindly words of love, 
Found beneath its hardened surface, 

Gems to shine in courts above. 



Boldly on he's marched before us 

Borne the labors of the day; 
Taught us well, in work and precept. 

How to act while yet 'tis day. 
Deeds by him long since forgotten. 

Radiant with celestial light. 
In the Heavenly archives nestle 

Gladdening Angelic sight. 

Dearest Father, let us thank thee. 

Words are weak; but God knows all: 
How our prayers have oft ascended. 

Blessings great on thee to call. 
May we all with thee, hereafter. 

When our days on earth have ceased, 
'Neath the sunbeams of the Godhead, 

Spend an everlasting Feast. 



Oft in mem'ry we perform a journey 

And of many countries take a quick survey: 
Thus thro' Gallia, let us now betake us. 

Pause to note its great men, on our way: 
Let us search its archives worn and olden. 

See the glorious names historic rise 
Claiming for themselves the highest honor 

For vast deeds or wondrous enterprise. 

One by one, they pass reviewed before us. 
Whilst we gladly yield the tribute due: 

Till, at length, a noble name awakens 
Every instinct of the good and true. 



18 



Not upon the blood-stained field of battle 

Did he win his laurels truly great; 
For he scorned what others prize most highly: 

Riches, honor, fame, or, proud estate. 

His great heart with holy love illumined. 

In each living creature saw his God: 
So, his aim, his chief ambition ever, 

Was to walk the path his Saviour trod. 
O'er the world, he sought for all the helpless 

That he might a timely aid impart. 
All who suffered either pain or anguish 

Had love's passport to his tender heart. 

'Round him throng the old and careworn pilgrims 

Weary of this place of exile drear: 
From his lips they drink in words of comfort 

And they learn each other's paths to cheer. 
So the captive in his darksome prison 

From the Sainted Vincent holy courage takes: 
Hope deferred he feels at length reviving, 

As a wish for higher things awakes. 

Flock to him the little homeless children 

Tired of this cold world's bitter draught of gall; 
Friends they know not, — parents have departed. 

Now, St. Vincent is their friend, their all. 
See him wipe away their tears of sorrow. 

Tears which Angels' hands, in love, collect 
And bright jewels form to last forever. 

Thus, our Father's virtues to reflect. 

Not for his time only, did he labor, 
But with eye prophetic future ages saw; 



19 



So he formed an order which he purposed 
To fulfill in earnest, charity's sweet law. 

For that work, we all by God are chosen. 
What a glorious mission here below! 

As our model let us take St. Vincent, 

Make our hearts with love like his to glow. 

O that heart! so fond of fellow-creatures! 

Gently sweet the lessons it will teach 
How we can, by kindly word and action, 

Highest summit of perfection reach, 
Hard it is not, when we see another 

Overburdened with a weight of woe. 
To stretch forth a helping hand, in kindness 

And make light his toilsome lot below. 

But our hearts: — so cold and selfish are they. 

E'en in thought or word we hesitate, 
Ere we try to aid a needy brother. 

Or, the pangs he feeleth mitigate. 
"All to all," this was our Founder's motto: 

Let us stamp it on our inmost hearts. 
Here on earth we're placed to live for others. 

From this duty, let us not depart. 

Always may the charity supernal, 

Which our Father's heart so deeply pressed. 
Find in ours a place of loving welcome 

For the refuge of the poor distressed. 
Dearer, dearer shall we be to Jesus, 

Who while on this earth the lowly deemed 
Children of His love and special blessing. 

By the shedding of His Blood redeemed. 



20 



Now, today, we peer thro' clouds above us 

And behold, amid celestial throngs, 
Our happy Saint, a noble guard surrounding. 

Chanting forth his praise, in sweetest song, 
Weak our voices mingle in the anthem: 

Great things here, the little oft confounds, 
So, we courage take and join the chorus 

Which throughout the Heavenly vault resounds. 



Holier than the Seraph! 

Cherubim seem small 
Near the throne of Mary, 

Spotless Queen of all. 
"Full of grace" he called her, 

Gabriel of old. 
Her the Virgin Mother 

Age on ages told. 

'Neath her heel the Serpent 

His proud head bent low; 
God the Father girt her 

Endless might to show. 
With His love the Spirit 

Clothed her beauteous soul, 
God the Son obeys her 

While all ages roll. 



21 



'Tis a holy thought and ail-consohng 

That we may the dear departed aid, 
By our prayers and good works freely doling, 

Cancel debts they left on earth unpaid. 
Oft there comes a visitor coldhearted — 

Death — who claims our loved and best: 
Fain we'd think all grief from them departed, 

That they now had gained eternal rest. 

But, with faith, we see the God of Heaven 

Just by nature, and in essence pure. 
In His sight, all souls behold sin's leaven 

Flee His presence. Who'll no stain endure. 
Fast they plunge into the purging fire 

That it may consume the stains of old. 
Stains now bringing on them God's just ire: 

Cleansed they must be and refined like gold. 

Holy Church, with tender heart of mother. 

Loves her children with unbounded love. 
She cries to us: "Have mercy on your brother 

And open wide the gates of bliss above." 
See her, now, triumphant with the reigning, 

Then, on earth, she girds each fighting son: 
Now she moums with those beyond who're suffering, 

Working off the dross which guilt has won. 

List! she calls on us, her earthly children. 

Bids us to her coffers rich repair, 
Draw from out her store and wealth of ages. 

Sweetest treasure of indulgenced prayer. 



22 



"By applying these," she gently tells us, 

"Flames you'll quench and many souls set free. 

Who, when prostrate at the feet of Jesus, 
Will obtain that you His Face shall see." 

So, to us, thus also Jesus speaketh: 

"Look in mercy on the souls I love, 
Blest, indeed, will he be who delivereth 

Souls from flames to mansions bright above. 
You alone, now, have the holy power, 

Their great torments soon to mitigate: 
I, Omnipotent! am powerless longer 

Change to make in this their painful state. 

"Mercy, now, must yield its place to justice, 

And, their wills no longer being free. 
They no respite for themselves can merit: 

Suffer must they, ere My Face they'll see. 
Still, My Heart bums with an ardent longing 

Heaven's portals now to open wide, 
Lx)ngs and waits impatient for their thronging 

To My courts in bliss with Me to bide." 

O dear Souls! could we but know your anguish. 

Then, perhaps, our icy hearts would melt. 
But alas! until our souls shall languish 

In those flames, we'll know not what you've felt: 
Yet, we'll kneel in love before the Altar, 

While our prayers, as sacred incense, rise. 
Teach our hearts to never, never faher, 

Till you're safe in realms beyond the skies. 



23 



^agings of ti\t faints* 

'To pray is good, to act is better, to suffer best of all." 

"O Deus! ego amo Te!" 

I hear the sainted Xavier say. 
Ignatius' prayer from day to day. 

"O Corpus Christi, salva me!" 
Teresa moans from heart afire, 

"To suffer, Lord, or else expire." 
DePazzi's love bursts forth in cry, 

"To suffer, Lord, and not to die." 
St. Philip says to wordly men, 

"Ambition gained, what then? And thenV 
Count Borgia near to royal tomb, 

"For God alone my soul finds room." 
Augustine's vision all life thro,' 

"O Beauty ancient, ever new!" 
On Jordan's bank, the Baptist's cry, 

"Make straight His path, the Lord is nigh! 
O ransomed men, today rejoice! 

Prepare His v/ay, I am His voice." 
Christ's Vicar on his earthly throne, 

"Thou knowest. Lord, my love!" would moan. 
While pagan lands St. Thomas trod. 

His soul's refrain: "My Lord, my God!" 
Burned great St. Paul his all to give — 

"I live, not I, but Christ doth live." 
St. Vincent looking on distress: 

"Christ's charity my soul doth press." 
Asissi's Saint in converse sweet, 

"My brothers!" would all creatures greet. 
"Come, praise the Lord," and while he spoke, 

Alverno's wooded hills awoke: 



24 



The feathered tribe and beasts from lair 

Joined Francis in his daily prayer. 
De Sales, the gentle, "Love," and then, 

"Do what you will, O foolish men!" 
St. John the loved one naught could say 

Thro' century that he lived, each day, 
But "Little children of my heart, 

Let each the other's love have part." 
Our Mother Mary, peerless maid. 

Since Gabriel's "Ave," none delayed, 
Her name to use in prayer and praise, 

And ask her aid in all their ways. 
St. Bernard great, the honey-tongue. 

Forever Mary's praises sung. 
"In ore mel," her name said he 

"In corde gaudium," should be, 
"In aure melos" dulcior 

Than e'er was heard on earth before. 
A Jerome great and Chrysostom 

With Ambrose, too: "All ages come. 
Shall Mary reign as Queen o'er all. 

The Moon which rose at Adam's fall. 
Beneath her foot the serpent's head. 

Our safety in that posture read." 
The Magdalen grieving while she lives, 

"Because she loves much, Christ forgives,' 
My own St. Agnes, headsman near, 

"Come, O my Spouse! I know not fear. 
Thy jewel's on my finger found. 

Thy girdle binds my heart around." 
Sebastian, while the torturers stare: 

"Foul emperor, beware, beware: 



25 



The God of Hosts with flaming sword 

E'en now leads on barbarian horde." 
Hear the great Angel of the Schools: 

"My Crucifix holds all the rules." 
And when his Lord a prize would give: 

"Naught but Thyself; in Thee I live.* 
Albertus' prophecy proves true: 

"His bellowing's heard the ages thro!' 
Our Mother pure, of all the Queen: 

"My lowliness the Lord hath seen. 
My name the nations blessed shall call, 

And magnify the Lord of all." 
Jesus, the saint of saints, spoke too, 

"My Father's Will, I came to do." 
St. Joseph's silence says to all, 

"On Mary and her Jesus call." 



Or Monk's ^asttrpu'te. 

In a modest Spanish convent 

Nestled close to old Madrid, 
In the humble chapel choir. 

Once a masterpiece was hid. 
The monks would come devoutly. 

And before God's holy shrine. 
Ask in simple prayer and fervent 

That to grace their hearts incline. 
A dying monk was painted 

And it seemed to them so real, 
That they thought of nothing further 

Than their eternal weal. 



26 



But it chanced, one day, that Rubens 

With his pupils passing by, 
Felt a sudden inspiration 

Near this convent to draw nigh. 
He had heard that austere penance 

Governed everything within, 
The friars hoping thus to stay 

The ravages of sin. 
Admitted to the chapel. 

His artist soul is stirred, 
And while the master gazes 

The pupils speak no word. 
They note his admiration. 

Their souls too, are aflame. 
And they long to know and honor 

The artist and his name. 
Van Dyck, the fav'rite pupil cries, 

"Who may the painter be?" 
Van Thulden spies a word below 

Erased most carefully. 
Then Rubens quickly summons 

The prior worn and old: 
"Whose brush produced this picture 

We admiringly behold?" 
"The painter of that picture. 

The world no longer claims." 
"What! Dead? And never written 

Upon Fame's list of names? 
He might have been immortal. 

Perchance eclipsed us all: 
And, Prior, you are speaking 

To Rubens, Peter Paul." 



27 



At this a tinge of color 

Suffused the monk's pale face, 
And momentary trembling took 

Of holy calm, the place. 
But again, he sweetly answered, 

"The world knows him no more." 
"Then let us hear his name," they cry, 

"To praise it, o'er and o'er. 
If he was robbed of glory 

Let Art still know her son. 
And e'en tho' late, be published 

The honor he has won." 
Cold beads of perspiration stood 

Upon the monk's pale brow. 
While the truth asked so imperiously, 

His lips would not avow. 
"His name? His name?" urged Rubens. 

The monk then gravely said, 
"You have not understood me, 

I said not *He is dead.' 
From the world and all its treasures, 

Its pomp, its fame, its love, 
He has fled to silent cloister 

And seeks his praise above." 
Then Rubens: "He is living! 

Concealed in convent cell! 
O Father! such a genius! 

I swear his name you'll tell; 
For the Holy Pontiff loves me 

And whatever convent door 
Has closed upon such talent 

Shall be opened wide before. 



28 



Come forth he must, whom God has sealed 

With marks of genius high 
Must shine, nor e'en be suffered. 

Unknown to hve and die." 
The monk then added sternly: 

"His name I ne'er shall give. 
Nor will I tell the cloister 

Where he in peace doth live." 
Armoyed, the master painter said: 

"The Pope will you command." 
"In Heaven's name," the Prior spoke 

And in menace raised his hand, 
"Do you think this man no struggles, 

No conflicts sharp endured, 
Ere he had crushed the pride within 

And Heaven's help secured? 
Could you but know the anguish 

And disappointments sore, 
Ambition's fairest pictures 

Spread before him o'er and o'er, 
What cruel griefs had tortured 

(And here he struck his breast) 
Before he learned that Vanity 

Is this fair world at best. 
Then seek not his asylum. 

Nor count his name a loss, 
This temptation he will banish 

By the holy sign— Christ's Cross." 
"But his name should be immortal," 

Rubens said, persisting still. 
"My son, think of eternity 

And of the Eternal Will." 



29 



He quickly spoke of other things 

Which worldings cannot lx»ast. 
Till Rubens and his cortege proud 

Went forth, a conquered host. 
Then kneeling in his little cell, 

Upon a mat of straw. 
The Prior smote his breast and prayed 

To keep God's holy law. 
He rose and from his window 

Beheld the flowing stream: 
His brushes, colors, easel, 

Threw forth; as in a dream 
He saw the waters clasp them. 

Saw them rise, then float, now fall; 
Then knelt before his crucifix 

Crowned by the Lord of all. 



Fairer than the lily! purer than the snow! 
Brighter than all radiance the universe can show! 
Meekest of the humble, humblest of the meek, 
Glorious Queen of Angels, refuge of the weak! 

Mother of earth's pilgrims, who can tell the bliss? 
Angels hosts of Heaven know not love like this! 
What shall we then offer on our Mother's day? 
That no word unkindl}r we shall ever say. 

Have no thought with harshness colored e'en the least, 
Such were worthy off'rings for our Mother's feast. 
And that every action courteous shall be. 
Love's the life of Heaven — loving endlessly. 



30 



faster. 

Alleluia! chants all nature, 
Sing the birds in happy mirth. 

Alleluia! look the flowerets 

As they peep from out the earth. 

Alleluia! wave the branches 

With their first soft down of spring, 

Thro' the forests, winds are whispering 
"Alleluias let us sing." 

Clouds move on and in their passing 
Drop their praises soft and low, 

Rays of sunlight flash their brightness 
Giving earth its Easter glow. 

Heart of man, arise! He's risen, 
Christ the Immolated One, 

He has robbed the grave of terror 
And o'er death the victory won. 



31 



The Apostles are assembled, all, save one, and lost in prayer, 

When, lo! the words "Pax vobis" break upon the silent air, 

And, in their midst, the Saviour, v^^ith mortal eyes they see: 

Then down in adoration, bend they heart and will and knee. 

For they know their God arisen, in that human form to be. 

With love their hearts are flooded, and with God's grace aglow: 

They bum, now, with the ardor which on high the Seraphs know. 

They note not hours in passing, — all unconscious they remain 

Till the wanderer, returning, when the day is on the wane. 

Brings back his raptured brethren to life's dull cares and pain. 

With joyous acclamation, "We have seen the Lord!" they say, 

"In person He has entered, these very walls, today." 

"Unless those Palms all-holy marked with points of nails I see. 

And the openings cruelly made there I may touch ail-reverently, 

I shall doubt your bold assertion, — unbelieving I must be." 

A week fulfilled its circuit— the Apostles as before 

Are deep in meditation on the passion which Christ bore. 

The doubter is now with them, his great heart with longing spent 

On the meaning of the prophecies, his soul is all intent 

When, suddenly, the atmosphere, a glorious vision rent. 

"Thomas!" the words were gentle, "thy risen Lord behold! 

Within these caves of love, My Wounds, find graces manifold. 

Stretch forth thy sight and touch, my son, of doubt thy soul divest. 

And Thomas quickly answers, "My Lord, my God, my Guest!" 

His energy of faith and love confirming all the rest. 

Then, Jesus, "Yea, My Thomas, because I'm seen by thee: 

Blessed they who have not seen and yet believe in Me." 

The chiding of His Master sunk deep within His breast: 

Long years of patient toil and care, with never dream of rest, 

Proclaimed his doubts all vanished, of love a glorious test. 



He chose far, far-off India as a gift unto his God; 

The seed of martyrs fructified in that unhallowed sod. 

Away from all his brethren, from Mary's counsels wise, 

Above each human feeling he bade his soul arise, 

And counted nought all conflicts for the eternal prize. 

But, e'en on earth, rewarded is this heroic son: 

God calls His Mother home to Him, her pilgrimage is done. 

The Apostles, Thomas absent, mournfully place her in the tomb. 

The light of life seems lost to them, earth an oppressing gloom, 

And desolation darkest to be their mortal doom. 

The Spirit prompted Thomas towards Jerusalem to repair. 

Once more is he a "witness" unto his brethren there: 

For, when the sorrowing Thom.as to Mary's grave they bring, 

Behold! the tomb is empty: exulting Angels sing, 

"We've borne her to the highest throne next to our God and King. 



Strong and weak, great and small, 
'Round His throne they gather all: 
Captain of Praetorian Bands, 
Agnes meek, with tiny hands, 
Manacles, they bring to bind — 
Tenderer than humankind — 
Placed her pure white flesh to press 
They refuse the rude caress, 
Drop to earth where they belong: 



33 



Angel hosts are near with song. 
Then the headsman's gleaming blade 
Sends to Heaven the spotless maid. 
Archers swift Sebastian greet 
With their poisoned darts and fleet. 
Like the forest oak stands he, 
Quails the emperor cowardly. 
Well he knows the holy scorn 
In Sebastian's great soul born, 
Where but honor sat enthroned, 
Rome her crime for centuries moaned. 



Clouds of fog upon the river, 
Ice and snow on all the hilltops. 
Trees are clothed in icy garments 
Strung with winter's glowing jewels. 

Emblem true of her the day is 
Of the martyr child St. Agnes. 
Heart as pure as falling snowflakes, 
Mind as bright as gems most brilliant. 

You are mine, O sainted Agnes, 
Mine for model pure and stainless. 
Be my heart like yours untarnished 
By the tempter's breath of evil. 

Be my life at least a tracing 
Of those lines of light eternal 
Which you left upon earth's pathway- 
Left for guiding me and others. 



34 



You all have read the story 

Which I fain would tell today, 

How the Royal Prophet David, 
As a king held mighty sway. 

How he conquered lords and leaders, 
Spread his empire, day by day. 

The glory of his kingdom 
Was known thro' every land; 

His armies marched to victory, 
Blessed by the Almighty Hand, 

And, onward to fulfillment, 
Sped everything he planned. 

But there burned within his spirit, 

A zeal, — a holy fire: — 
A temple to the Lord of Hosts 

To build, was his desire — 
Than all the works of man he'd make 

This building, grander, higher. 

Then spoke the Great Jehovah 

Unto this Royal Son: 
"The temple which thou plannest 

By thy hands shall ne'er be done, 
Content be thou with victories 

Which thy armies great have won. 

The years passed in their circuit 
And peace crowned all his ways. 

While Israel's name shone glorious 
With religion's brightest rays: 

Then God gave to King David 
His last of earthly days. 

35 



To Israel's throne of splendor 

Came Solomon the Wise: 
His royal father's wish to him 

Was more than courtly prize, 
And he vowed that grandest temple 

Would speedily arise. 

Then, Hiram Great of Tyre, 
Brought from his richest stores 

Ten thousands talents of pure gold 
And other costly ores. 

And Cedars great of Libanus 
Were laid on Israel's shores. 

The hewers, masons, carvers. 

Two hundered thousand strong, 

Toiled on, and on, with vigor. 
Thro' days of seven years long. 

While naught was heard among them 
But labor's busy song. 

At last, the work was finished — 
Such grandeur ne'er was seen. 

All things within the temple. 
Revealed a golden sheen. 

And Solomon was happy, 
In his majesty serene. 

To the solemn dedication 
Came Israel's children all. 

No man could count the thousands 
Inside the city wall: 

For none but heard and answered 
The King's inviting call. 



36 



"O God of Hosts!" prayed Solomon; 

"This temple to Thy Name, 
We offer with our service, 

And all with loud acclaim 
Beseech, today, Thy blessing. 

And every day, the same. 

"This temple which my Father 
Had planned to build to Thee, 

And which my eyes unworthy 
Have had the grace to see. 

How little in comparison. 
Of Thy eternity! 

"What is our Holy of Holies, 
Tho* formed of purest gold, 

And guarded by the Cherubim 
Wrought in the finest mould, 

Since e'en the Heaven of heavens 
Thy greatness cannot hold! 

"But show O God! Thy mercy 
And let our every prayer 

Within these sacred walls be heard 
Thy suppliants ever spare. 

We are Thy chosen people. 
Thy blessings, let us share." 

* 5}= * 

In this old-time Scripture story, 
I have read our history, too. 

Our wars were early struggles 
Which needed heroes true, 

Whom affection's magic wand, today, 
Will gladly bring to view. 



37 



We look back years now fifty 

And name the trials all. 
Want stood where means were needed 

To meet the Master's call, 
When the plaints of the afflicted 

On their sorrowing ears would fall. 

Oh, could we count the labors, 
The prayers, the fasts, the deeds. 

The sacrifice of spirit, 

The vigils, sufferings, needs: — 

Then, heroes, each would name them 
As the history she reads. 

Perseverance marked their footsteps: 
Every print we now can trace: 

For the Valiant Women onward 
Pressed, with earnest, godly pace, 

That we might follow safely 

Who are called to take their place. 

When early trials vanished 

And broader grew their world, 

Did they rest? Behold the motto 
On the banner they unfurled: 

From out their path for "Charity" 
Every obstacle they hurled. 

Years passed: — the poor, the needy. 

The illiterate and lone. 
Had care and ease and comfort 

For every woe and groan: 
And God had given, likewise. 

The place we call our own. 



38 



Then, like the great King David, 
To realms of peace some passed, 

Their longings lived in hearts that love 
Their lives, a radiance cast, 

And, with, joy, we greet fulfillment. 
Of their ardent hopes, at last. 

Years seven, too, our temple, 

Ere man's work on it was done. 

But its gold thro' fires of sorrow 
Flaif a century has run, 

The gold which, most of all things, 
Prize the Mother and her Son. 

Our Sisters aged and weary 

We congratulate, today. 
The offering we are making 

They gathered on life's way 
When darkest hours were brightened 

By this far-off, silvery ray. 

They brought of gold the purest, 
Love which has borne the test, 

While myrrh was never wanting. 
Or frankincense the best, 

And now, they're sweetly waiting 
Their never ending rest. 

To Mary the Immaculate 

We dedicate our shrine: 
And while all arts and music 

With tributes rich incline, 
Her altar, with our gratitude, 

Devotedly we twine. 



39 



The glory of our temple 

Was never known of old; 
The Saviour v^ith us dwelling, 

Our eyes of faith behold 
And longing for His children 

Rich graces to unfold. 

Sing, then, each heart with gladness. 

In love we all are one: 
The departed, and the aged. 

Whose course is well-nigh run. 
Of maturer years, and youngest. 

Whose work has but begun. 

Our song of praise should lengthen 
And fuller grow, each year. 

Until the Master's voice shall sound 
On our enraptured ear. 

And "Come thou faithful one" be heard 
In sweetest notes and clear. 



From pole to pole exulting sound 
Rich hymns of praise and prayers profound, 
For gloriously Christ's Vicar here. 
Today fulfills his Silver Year. 

His name is blessed throughout the world, 
Where flag of nation is unfurled; 
He sends his mandates 'round the globe, 
Although he wears not royal robe. 



40 



Not royal robe— but richer far 
Than emperor, or king, or czar. 
Omnipotence has lent His power 
To Leo for the Church's dower. 

A triple crown his brow adorns. 
And hides beneath a wreath of thorns; 
For like His Master All Divine, 
'Round Leo's heart man's sorrows twine. 

St. Peter's keys to him are given. 
That like the Heart of Jesus riven. 
The Gate of Heaven opened wide, 
All men may enter, e'er to bide. 

Then, we the children of his love, 
His cherished charge from God above, 
Today should sing our truest song. 
And words of praise and prayer prolong. 

Long live our Pope, the great, the wise ! 
May God of Armies quickly rise 
To overthrow the hostile bands 
Which devastate Pope Leo's lands. 

Pope Leo's lands are all the earth 
Assigned to Him at Jesus' birth — 
Jesus, our First High Priest, took, then, 
As heritage the souls of men. 



The glorious sun in setting, 

Had tinged the foHage grand. 
The Jordan's crystal waters 

Seemed filled with golden sand. 
The wind disturbed the wavelets 

And upward ripples threw. 
All dazzling in the sunshine 

With ever-varying hue. 

The clouds above were mirrored 

Within the Jordan's bed: 
While on the banks bloomed flowers 

With petals white or red. 
The hills around were skirted 

With trees and clust'ring vines 
Which hung upon the branches 

In strange fantastic lines. 

On the green hillocks resting 

The placid cattle lay. 
Their keepers, nearby, chatting 

To while the hours away. 
Full oft their laugh resounded 

The hills and vales along; 
Their hearts no sorrow burdened. 

Their joy broke forth in song. 

Judea's people gathered 

On Jordan's bank, that eve: 
What was there in the river 

Such tangled thoughts to weave? 
Care sat upon their foreheads, 

They spoke in whispers low: 
The Messiah long expected, 

Were they never Him to know? 

42 



A prophet, in the wilderness, 

They late had heard to speak: 
"The King," he said, "expected, 

Was one both poor and meek. 
On Jordan's bank unnoticed 

Amongst them He had been. 
Baptized in Jordan's water, 

Tho' wholly without sin." 

They spoke and wondered greatly 

The mystery deeper grew. 
While nature felt the secret 

Known but to mortals few. 
O hearts of men! how hardened! 

And eyes of men! how blind! 
Sin, draw aside thy curtain. 

Let light pierce every mind. 

Oh, trees, why stand ye silent? 

Why do ye not rejoice, 
When hearing from the desert 

The Baptist's earnest voice? 
"Prepare the way!" he crieth, 

"Make straight the Lord's blest path, 
Do penance, or, you'll perish, 

Avert, thus, Heaven's wrath." 

These words, ye leaves, now whisper! 

And, Jordan, bear them on! 
Ye hills, the echo carry! 

Ye vales, retain them long! 
Tell mankind that the Saviour 

As shepherd here has trod: 
How blessed is all nature 

Thus near to feel — its God! 



43 



How still and calm and peaceful is the night, 

All souls seem wrapped in gentle slumbers sound: 
Behold that star in Orient so bright! 

Its call to Magian hearts a welcome found. 
From home they go with gifts of priceless worth: 

Gold, frankincense, and myrrh, fit emblems they 
Of Him Who born a King, unknown on earth. 

Who gave to night the stars — the sun, — today. 
Blest Magi! haste to Bethlehem's humble town 

And there in adoration lowly kneel 
Before the Infant King, your God come down, 

His love for man to show, His glory great conceal. 
They speed their steps nor ever rest they e'en 

Till nearing Herod's court, the star is gone: 
Preplexed, they ask; but Herod has not seen 

(The star was meant to guide them on) 
His soul at once becomes a prey to crime. 

What shall he do? A rival has appeared. 
Young, He must be, not far advanced in time: 

A king, base Herod, not a God had feared. 
Straightway are edicts envious proclaimed. 

And Bethlehem's babes, of years two, must be slain. 
Vain king! thy futile efforts badly aimed. 

Have filled high Heaven with a radiant train. 
O mothers! cease your wailings, quickly rise. 

Look up, beyond, behold your babes in bliss! 
The Lamb's first fruits, oh, see with glowing eyes! 

What greater, higher privilege than this! 



44 



^attfer ^etons (SLttxttnnmL 

One hundred years have passed away, a century's course has run, 
Since Hke a tiny seedHng sown our Order was begun. 
Then thro' our loved United States gleamed no cathedral spire; 
Today above the gilded cross, scarce mountain peaks rise higher. 
Thro* North and South and East and West, this land proclaims 

God's own, 
And Mary, Queen Immaculate, is placed on love's high throne. 
In Maryland our work began, when Mother Seton's call 
Straight from the Heart of Jesus came— her answer — "All for all!" 
Beneath the Blue Ridge Snowy crest in lovely, peaceful dale,— 
A gift to her, from God's own Hand, she placed St. Joseph's Vale. 
She looked o'er all this country vast, mapped out its future great: 
The little ones, she saw, must prove the strength of Church and State. 
We marvel now at vision clear which saw Religion's field. 
Which read, a century ago, its wondrous growth and yield. 
We wonder more at strength of will and wealth of purpose high 
Which sought in country ages old, a mode of life to try. 
On plans of old, she based the new, America must grow 
In Faith and Knowledge Heaven-sent, sweet Charity must show. 
And so, God's weak and suffering poor, the weary and the lone, 
She took unto her heart of hearts and made their cares her own. 
Thro' sorrow's bitter pathway led, her patience faltered not. 
While in her soul each virtue grew, as in fair garden spot. 
Today her name is breathed in love thro' every clime and land, 
Her followers by the thousand strong, go forth a joyous band. 
St. Vincent's "Black Cap" Daughters all in prayer have asked and sung 
Their Mother's name be placed on high the Saints of God among. 
If miracles, as proof, be asked, her history writ and told. 
Beside the Saints of other lands in letters stands pure gold. 
Then let us all exultingly walk in her footsteps true — 
Our Golden Jubilarians, have followed her, life through. 
She sends them gratulations meet to mark this festive day 
And bestows her sweetest blessing to attend us on life's way. 

45 



©at |labg of ^ourbes. 

On my mantel 'neath her picture, 
Stands thy image, Mother fair. 

Thro' her years of pain and anguish 
Kept she it with tender care. 

Flowers gathered in the wildwood, 
First sweet harbingers of spring, 

She would place before thy statue, 
Her love's loyalty to bring. 

Richer blossoms, man's care showing, 
Tender vines or evergreen. 

In her suffering hands she'd hasten 
All to lay before her Queen. 

Why, O Mother, did she suffer 

Thro' those thirteen years — so long? 

I must ask not — she ne'er murmured, 
Faith and love in her were strong. 



46 



JUtSrtdkmairs* 





imui 



THE OLD BIRCH TREE. 



There's a tree before my window, 
With its branches traihng low 

Showing grace that man might covet 
In their swaying to and fro. 

Leaves as soft as downy feathers 

Kissed by every zephyr fair 
Tell their thanks in graceful motion 

To the spring's fresh perfumed air. 

And the straying sunbeams color 
Ev'ry nodding leaf and stem, 

While the dew on white bark glistens — 
Nature's own resplendent gem. 

Yet this tree with trailing branches 

Has a dignity of mien 
Which lends a royal presence 

To all the beauteous scene. 

So the drooping birch a lesson 

To my spirit whispers low, 
That the noble soul by bending. 

Far lovier still may grow. 

That grace of word and action 

And charm of gentle face 
Come always from the heart-depths, 

And leave a lasting trace. 

That with the mellowing touches 
Which sorrow's hand will bring, 

The dignity of kindness 
To character will cling. 



49 



We'll stoop with tender manner 

The lowliest to greet 
And give a smile of sympathy 

To everyone we meet. 

All points of little moment 

We'll yield with charming grace, 
And meet our fellow-beings 

True love-light on our face. 

Thus a life of noble purpose 
We shall show in all our ways, 

While not for self — but others 
We spend the passing days. 



Your dainty swaying branches 

In icy fetters strong 
The Winter King is holding 

While snow flakes whirl along. 
The sun's rays kiss your cover 

Each tiny twig is seen 
Encircled o'er with diamonds 

Of wondrous dazzling sheen. 
Your crest of graceful branchlets 

Fears not the Storm King's breath, 
Nor thinks his cold embracing 

The icy chill of death. 
For after Winter snow clouds, 

Will come the Spring's warm rain. 
And your soft green garments growing 

Will gird you o'er again. 



50 



-^^cg^^^^^^i^i^^^^a^g^ 



This life so full of sorrow, 

With its yearning for the morrow, 

Has oft a hidden blessing 

For the secret heart alone: 
And the prize we hold the dearest 
Is friendship the sincerest, 
A Hower which buds and blossoms 

In a garden all our own. 

I would crave no friendship other 
Than the cherished love of brother 
Which resists Time's ruthless finger 

Marking all things for decay. 
Whose insatiate tooth shall never 
The threads pure golden sever: 
For a brother's love endureth 

Thro' God's own endless day. 

What waves of grateful feeling 
Come o'er my spirit stealing. 
When with burning heart, I reckon 

Years with happiness replete! 
Heart to heart has spoken ever, 
Counsels sweet have ended never. 
Night e'er brings my prayers to Mary 

Still her graces to repeat. 

And when at morning waking. 
Our orisons we're making, 
Our names are intermingled 

With the incense of our prayer. 
Then, bowed in spirit lowly, 
I beg the God All-Holy 
To crown with love and blessing 

My brother's greying hair. 

51 



Spring. 

I love the April shower, 
Each tiny woodland flower 
Hid in its fairy bower, 
And birds, too, on the wing. 
I love the brooklet flowing 
Which murmurs in its going — 
"Be careful of your sowing, 
It is not always spring." 

I love the sun's awaking, 
Winter's icy fetters breaking. 
And full possession taking 
Of nature in the spring. 
I love the breezes tender 
And twigs and branches slender, 
And clouds which showers render 
And every earthly thing. 

I love to watch the seeding 
And the hoeing and the weeding. 
In the spring-time labor reading 
What man's toil may later bring. 
How his soul to Heaven turning 
From earth's uncertain yearning 
Gains everlasting earning 
When he kneels before his Kins:. 



52 



Borne aloft on the breeze, see it raised to the skies! 

Our banner of Freedom, our glorious prize! 

The bright "Stars and the Stripes," of base slavery the foe, 

Liberty's herald and fell tyrants death-blow. 

Its rank is the first, for it waves o'er the free: 

It is hailed in all lands and the isles of the sea. 

While the red of its stripes tells of noble blood shed. 

Defending its honor, by our living and dead; 

There's a record immaculate found in the white, 

As we read there the annals of justice and right. 

Like the skies overhead, star beset is its blue. 

Bright beacon for nations to the shrine of the true. 

From the North to the South, the far East to the West, 

It floats on the winds 'neath the eagle, — its crest. 

Oh, the millions who love it, and count it proud fame 

To die in the cause of its glorious name! 

Hearty plaudits all nations are ready to give 

To our heroes of old and our heroes who live. 

In a group, next to Washington, History beguiles 

With Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, our Shafter and Miles: 

Then Dewey and Sampson, with Hobson and Schley 

All are crowned with a glory which comes from on high: 

For the Lord God of Hosts put His might in their arm. 

And they stayed the advance of War's ravaging storm. 

Yes, they planted our banner on tower and mast 

And their names shall be known while Columbia shall last. 

And Columbia shall last, when the nations of old 

Have sunk to oblivion 'neath time's heavy mould. 

For Liberty lives and expands as she grows. 

And shackles must break, as she bondage o'erthrows. 



53 



May the Red, White and Blue of our dear Stripes and Stars 
Shine never again 'mid the darkness of wars. 
May our flag stream fore'er to encircle the world, 
Peace and justice embrace, wheresoe'er 'tis unfurled. 
And may Victory's laurel, now placed on our brow. 
Win eternity's crown, when at God's throne we bow. 



Dear little hearts on slender stem. 

So many and so red. 
You carry me aback life's path, 

And whisper words oft said. 

Words sweet and soft and cherished, too, 

And told in many a tongue: 
But, 'round my heart your stillest tone 

Most tenderly has clung. 

I watch the opening spring-time, now, 

As in those days of yore, 
I see your buds expand and bloom. 

Love's messages to pour. 

I see you plucked by dearest hand 
And stored with tender grace, 

To keep for me a secret sweet, 
In love's own hiding place. 

Then, grow fore'er, dear little flower, 
And keep our hearts still young: 

The Heavenly Gardener blessed the earth 
From which your beauty sprung. 



54 



-"^fe^sS^^^^^^Z^i^^^gfe^ 



Twinkle, glowing gems of night, 
Tell us what great worlds you light. 
Are you suns of other spheres? 
Thus to Science it appears. 

I can fancy Angels bright 

Passing in their mystic flight. 

Myriad your numbers seem. 

Vast the space thro' which you gleam. 

You're not greater than our earth, 
Here the Saviour took His Birth, 
Here He walked and wept and prayed, 
Three and thirty years He stayed. 

Did you envy our small globe 
Which He trod in seamless robe? 
How I wonder if alone 
To our earth such grace was shown! 



Stern March is loath to part with us, 
Just hear his harsh good-bye; 

He sends the snow a-whirling 
Iiito spring's wide-openmg eye. 

His embrace is very chilly, 

And we stand at winter's door, 

As if to say, "We're done with you, 
We want you here no more." 



55 



The timid shoots are shrinking 

And the birds' bright songs are still, 

The heaven's blue is hidden, 
Checked is the voice of rill. 

He's brought upon all nature 

A lurking awe and fear: 
For e'en the cattle seem to say, 

"We wish he'd go from here.'* 

We're ready now for April, 

So sunny and so bright, 
Who opens Nature's treasures 

And sends us showers light. 



See! the snow is falling, falling, 

Cov'ring earth with mantle soft. 
And the year is calling, calling, 

We have heard it, oh, how oft! 
As it nears its end, it whispers: 

"Foolish man, why wasting so, 
Precious moments, gifts all golden, 

As they swiftly come and go?" 
In its passing, hark! it tells us 

Heavenward our thoughts to raise, 
That our lives should be a hymning 

Of the great Creator's praise, 
That the Past knows not an Easter; 

For, our Resurrection Morn, 
Tho' we see it in the Future, 

In the Present shall be born. 



56 



-^,^cS^^^>^^^^^^3feJ^g^^ 



Every grove has its flowers the fairest, 

Which a richness of perfume exhale: 
Our "Grove" tho' of "Cedars" has blossoms 

Which modestly hide in the vale. 
We find here the pure white of lily, 

And Bethlehem Stars ever bright, 
For our graduates' hearts are a garden 

Where virtue has found her delight. 
In the future may friendship caress them, 

Their life be a calm summer day, 
May God send His best gifts to bless them, 

Fore'er in His own Royal Way. 



Oh, my soul is full of gladness 

And with thanks my heart o'erflows. 
When I hear a warbling songster 

Or look on blooming rose: 
When I stoop, the modest violet 

With eagerness to greet, 
And catch the dainty fragrance 

Of the vale's pure lily sweet! 

How my heart expands with goodness! 

Speak these blossoms frail and fair 
"Our Maker is your Father 

And you'll find Him everywhere." 
I look up to the Heavens, — 

Yes, I see His image there 
And the fruitage and the harvest 

Prove His ever watchful care. 



Then, I summon my own spirit, 

Tell it "Show me if you can 
The perfect gift the Maker 

With His image gave to man." 
Then my soul's voice quickly answers: 

"There is One without a stain — 
Our Maiden Mother Mary, 

Heaven's Queen fore'er to reign." 



I look adown the ninety years 

Of life which have escaped from me. 
And step by step, I follow fate 

And note her works and stern decree. 
A little child am I again. 

With buoyant step and lightsome heart. 
Play is my life, and toys — my wealth, 

But even then comes sorrow's dart. 
A void I feel within my soul. 

Which widens as I older grow: 
To close the breach, in vain I try, 

Until my God I learn to know. 



When your rosary said, 
In this case brightest red 

Your beads you have placed for awhile: 
May God's richest grace 
Your life-work embrace. 

Until it shall gain Heaven's smile! 



58 



Imagine this earth with no bright cheering rays 

To illumine the darkness 'mid long gloomy days: 

With hurricanes wild sweeping recklessly by 

Threatening quick desolation to all 'neath the sky. 

What were this beauteous world with no zephyrs so soft 

To entice the frail vine, like the stem oak aloft, 

To send forth its blossoms, its leaves, and its shoots 

And, in time, as a tribute, to offer its fruits. 

What of life or of beauty would be at our hand, 

Did rough winds or rough weather alone hold comm.and? 

Would the birds their sweet carols send forth from the grove 

If with storms and with tempests they constantly strove? 

Should no softening dew, but a cold heavy rain 

Fall fore'er on the soil, would it not fall in vain? 

'Tis a law of all nature that beauty is found 

Where not force, but the mildest persuasions abound. 

In the keen Northern clime, or, where hot winds are blovm, 

There is not to compare with our own Temperate Zone. 

Like the physical world, is the moral in this: — 

Without the "mean golden" there is nothing of bliss. 

The "Lords of Creation" may a proud sceptre sway: 

But their rule and their nation would be things of a day, 

Did woman's mild influence ne'er soften their hearts. 

And teach the most heavenly of civilized arts. 

Did she hold not the place of a bright beacon star. 

No sound but of tumult would come from afar. 

Were she not the "lode-stone" of "Home Sweet Home," 

A wanderer, gloomy, man forever would roam. 

If arguments further, you'd summon to show 

That woman is needful for bliss here below, 

For proofs of my statement to past ages turn. 

Her "original untameness" I from no page can learn. 

59 



The shades of Lent are falhng fast 
As on your letter, dear, I cast 
With timid glance my frightened eyes 
While conscious gilt sends forth the cries: 
Confiteor, conliteor. 

Your message clad in friendship's robe 
And lessons culled from Holy Job 
Came to my heart and "pigeon holes," 
Old Time stands not but onward rolls. 
Confiteor, confiteor. 

From Denver heights I pray smile down. 
Unwise in Kodak days, to frown — 
What threatened you about my hair? 
That atmosphere is very rare! 
Excelsior, confiteor. 

I'll sit me down and woo you back 
Old love is safe on any track. 
Repentance asks, "Is it too late?" 
You'll soon receive full pages eight. 
Confiteor, confiteor. 

I see you on Perfection's Mount 
Your rapid strides I cannot count, 
Your voice like softest murmuring rill 
I hear grow fainter, fainter still. 
Excelsior, excelsior. 



Soon must the swift running stream of our time 

Blend with eternity's sea, 
Oh, if our lives are but dreams of a dream, 

What shall the wakening be? 
E'en when our day, when this earth is no more. 

Still must our spirits live on; 
Happy, or hopeless, oh, which shall they be, 

When for all time we are gone? 

Happy indeed, if in life we have toiled 

Not for the fleeting and vain. 
If we have sought for eternal rewards. 

Happiness thus shall we gain. 
Hopeless our lot, if the lasting we spurn: 

For, at eternity's dawn, 
All that we've worked for or prized here in life. 

Quick from our grasp shall be gone. 

Then, as we hurry thro' life's busy maze. 

Wise let us be for our soul. 
Chase not the phantoms which vanish away, 

But steadily march to our goal. 
Follow the pathway, tho' rugged and steep. 

Over which heroes have gone; 
Then, shall we bask in the noontide of light 

Which for all ages has shone. 



61 



-^fe^c§^^^>*^^^i^^^gfe^i^ 



What wish shall I write, Mamie dear, on this page? 

An innocent girlhood, a good ripe old age? 

Tho' lightly I've written these words, they contain 

What I'd pen were I now in a serious strain. 

Life's just what we make it> so then, Mamie dear, 

Let your forces on virtue's side always appear. 

Shun the glare and the show and the tinsel of life 

And exult in the wounds of a glorious strife. 

When God calls you home. Life's drear pilgrimage o'er 

Your merits you'll find on Eternity's shore. 

Up higher, and higher, your soul they will bear 

Till the glory of Angels and Saints you will share 

Then God's Hand will place virtue's crown on your brow 

When led by His Mother, at His Throne you will bow. 



From a Sister's heart sincerely 

Gushes forth the wish today. 
That thy future years be happy. 

Toiling up the narrow way — 
Up the straitened road m.ade pleasant, 

By our model, gone before; 
Him, the Crucified, the Holy 

Whom all Heaven and earth adore. 



62 



May I trace as a vision, dear Mother, 

The joy of your spirit today, 
As you knelt in most prayerful thanksgiving 

And beheld of God's beauty a ray? 

Did our Mother's sweet smile seem to tell you 

No picture on earth is more true? 
That her Son looks with love on the artist 

And showers His graces on you? 

Oh, your soul must be flooded with blessings 
And your heart with pure love must abound. 

While your children, the near and the absent, 
In spirit and truth gather 'round. 

And their voices are hymning the praises 
We all love in Faber's sweet song. 

And their hearts the loved word still are saying 
"Immaculate!" all the day long. 

And they speak to their Mother the purest, 
While she listens with love-light serene. 

Of us happy mortals, she's Mother, 

While of Angels, she's only the Queen. 

Go, tell to her, then dearest Mother, 

All we need, all you hope for and pray. 

She will turn to her Son and He'll grant her 
Whatever you ask her, today. 



63 



'Sum 4, 1H83. 

O God! we bow in anguish beneath this chastening blow: 

The timid, creeping vines are left, the noble tree laid low. 

Beneath wide-spreading branches of hope and trust and love, 

Sweet peace was ever 'round us, a sky serene above. 

Days came and went, and seasons followed with quickening speed, 

Bearing each its wondrous record of many a noble deed. 

The Gospel's "Valiant Woman," yet more, a mother true. 

With will so strong and heart so warm, on earth there are but few. 

Truth, honor, and high principle set on her queenly brow. 

And neither heart nor thought nor will to aught but such could bow. 



Gone! in the spring of his life-time, 
Gone! with his course just begun. 

Gone! from the hearts that would hold him 
To bask 'neath Eternity's Sun. 

Hearts that are breaking with anguish, 
Hearts that cry out for his love. 

Hearts, for whose void, there's no filling, 
Behold him with Seraphs above! 

O Father! so noble in giving, 

O Mother! a martyr in grief. 
Sisters and Brothers, God give you— 

He only can give you — relief! 

God took him with garments unspotted, 
' God called him with heart all His own, 
God loved him and placed him forever, 
An ornament, close to His throne. 

64 



Two years! oh, how short in their passing, 
Two years with rich blessings apace, 

Two years, in which daily he offered 
His God, on the Altar of Grace. 

Oh let us bow low in our anguish, 
And let us scan earth's hidden snares, 

Then, let us rejoice he's escaped them. 
That the laurel of victory he wears. 

Tho' long may be years of sad waiting, 
Tho' sore be our hearts, all the while, 

Tho' weary, and desolate and dreary. 
At length! 'twill be God and his smile. 



Gone forever, closed life's portals. 

He has passed away: 
To his Maker's Hands returning 

Soul from form of clay. 

There he found his life-work waiting. 

Every kindly deed, 
Sacrifice of self for others 

Suffering pain or need. 

Now, his great soul finds its answer, 
Brilliant thoughts now see: 

Earth and weary care have vanished. 
Past is mystery. 



65 



Gathered 'round his bier in mourning 
Low with grief bowed down, 

Daughters, brothers, friends unnumbered 
Offer love's last crown. 

Heroes all must pass thro' conflict, 

Cypress grows near bay: 
After life's one night of sorrow 

Comes eternal day. 



Christ is risen: death is conquered, 
Heaven's gates are opened wide. 

Mortals, cease your sighs of anguish. 
Glorious is the Crucified. 

He is risen, and His followers 

Forth their songs of triumph pour. 

They have gained the palm of conquest, 
Passing thro' life's closing door. 

What to them are sorrows vanished! 

What their burden of the Cross! 
What, indeed, that days were shortened! 

Life to them was gainful loss. 

That the exile's term is ended. 
That he lays his burden down. 

Who shall weep or gaze in sorrow? 
Thus he gains the victor's crown. 



66 



Want has blessed him; Care has praised him: 
From his hand, both comfort won. 

And Religion ever claimed him 
As her true and faithful son. 

Short his life, but full of merit: 

Nothing vain by him was sown: 
Whilst he raised to God, a temple, 

God prepared his heavenly throne. 

Let the widow and the orphans 

And the aged mother, too, 
Pierce the clouds of earthly darkness. 

See his resurrection true. 

Then they'll chant their Alleluias! 

For the obstacles o'erthrown: 
Their own troubles, too, will vanish, 

Angels will remove the stone. 



You mourn, O tender Mother! 

Your loved one called so soon. 
You miss his boyish spirits, 

His laugh, his merry tune. 

You listen for his footstep. 
His cheery word of hope; 

His future had no limits. 
Wide his ambition's scope. 

Strong was his Faith, and active, 

His Charity so true: 
A nobler son or brother 

Or friend, none ever knew. 

G7 



While hearts are gathered 'round you, 

In sympathetic love, 
They see the mourned one happy 

In God's own home above. 

Then, cease, O Christian Mother! 

Your tears and groanings deep: 
The sorrows of the present, 

A great reward will reap. 

What if our dear ones sooner 

Are gathered to the fold? 
How sweet will be their welcome 

When life's last day is told! 

Then endless bliss our portion, 
Partings, never, never more: 

Such joy is worth life's trials 
Encountered o'er and o'er. 



^ "^xxbvde of ®I|mths. 

'Tis the hour we love most that passes 
As a cloud from a clear summer sky: 

And the pleasures we fain would have tarry, 
Ever onward keep hurrying by. 

So, two weeks in their fruit rich and golden. 
Brief in passing, yet, lingering still. 

Thro' our lives shall their mem'ry run ever, 
Sweet and clear, as the soft-flowing rill. 



68 



We have seen the old poets come forward, 
Allured by the charm of thy voice: 

Their noblest thoughts leave the dead pages, 
Clothed in sound, heart and ear to rejoice. 

We love the sweet bird for its carol, 
Its rich notes of gladness and glee, 

But what the bright songster lacks noblest, 
We find all embodied in thee. 

Thy tones in their eloquence richer. 

Our warmest affections must win: 
For they're but as a messenger telling 

Of the true, noble soul that's within. 

There is pleasure in Nature's rich beauties. 
Blossoms spread o'er earth, gladden our eye. 

And with thanks to the Great Benefactor, 
We behold the rich fruitage on high. 

But, while to the bird we yield tribute, 
To the fruit and the flower, full praise, 

Our souls' noblest off'rings and greetings 
Are due for thy Banquet of Lays: 

Full of gratitude, then we'd fain tell thee 
Our thanks, in this plain, little rhyme 

Be thou blessed in thy home, in thy children. 
Be thou blessed thro' all ages of time. 

Still, further the blessing we'd carry: 
For, borne on the incense of prayer. 

Thy name wafted heavenward always. 
Shall make thee a resting-place there. 

What our words could not say in their weakness, 
Mid these petals and leaflets, we wove. 

And thou must read there thanks and greetings, 
From each sincere friend at the Grove. 

69 



Thro' our garden bowers, 'mid grove and vine, 
We sought for a chaplet, for thee to twine: 

But o'er all the fragrance, anear and far, 
Th' aroma came to us, of a good cigar. 

So, leaving the rose with its honeyed breath, 
And the lily's marble brow of death, 

We gathered a plant, shriveled tho' it may be, 
Something says, to thy sight it will pleasant be: 

And, as for its fragrance! we know all too well. 
How gentlemen love, in such perfume to dwell. 

So, cozily rolled, is each plain little leaf 

Commissioned, our greeting to offer in brief. 



A little child in early May 

Said to herself in converse sweet, 

"The rosary I'll say each day. 

Sweet Mary, thus, I'll daily greet." 

The flowers bloom throughout the woods. 
The birds their carols gaily sing. 

And happy children far and near 

To Mary's shrine their garlands bring. 

The little maid is poor and blind: 
She cannot roam the woodland o'er: 

But, see! her hands keep reckoning 
The beads she counts by many a score. 



70 



Her sweet voice warbles hymns of praise 
And rivals birds in silvery tone. 

Hear how it soars and trills on high. 
Until it reaches Mary's throne. 

At last her Angel Guardian comes 
To take the little wand'rer home. 

Her sightless eyes see Heaven's light, 
Her feet o'er earth no more will roam. 

They robe her in a spotless white 

Of purity an emblem meet. 
They place her rosary in her hands, 

Lo! every bead, a lily sweet. 

Then those who kneel around her form 
No tear can shed, — they know her joy: 

Her lips, they smile and seem to say — 
In Heaven what peace without alloy! 



For your "treasure box" — something, a sweet souvenir? 
Is that what you ask of me, Mamie, my dear? 

Well, child, here before me are small emblems three, 
Of the greatest of virtues Faith, Hope, Charity. 

Could I make these high gifts of God brighter in you, 
'Twere a treasure, dear Mamie, for Angels to view. 



71 



-%fe^c§^^^>^^^^i^^^2fe^i#- 



If thou wouldst happy be, my dear, 

Thro' all thy future hours, 
Cull now, in girlhood, basketsful 

Of virtues' fairest flowers. 
They will not die or change a hue 

But brighter grow and sweeter; 
Just like the years as we grow old 

Much shorter seem and fleeter. 
Whate'er thou'lt make thy life to be 

That will it be, my dearie, 
So now to work, while yet thou'rt young, 

And grow thou never weary. 
If thou wouldst scale the mountain top, 

Remain not in the valley: 
But venture forth and struggle up, 

And all thy forces rally. 
'Tis thus we gain whate'er we prize: 

No good e'er comes of sighing; 
The goal ahead will soon be reached 

If we resort to trying. 



^ OIf|rtstmas ]Bx^i\. 

At Christmas-tide, for thee, my friend, 

I beg in earnest prayer, 
That God's great glory be the end 

Of all thy work and care: 
That "Peace to men" thou may est bring, 

In word, in deed, in thought: 
So, be thy life, thro' seasons all. 

With Yule-tide blessings fraught. 



72 



Three-score and ten I number now, 

Time's ploughed deep furrows on my brow; 

I've ceased o'er long to chase on high 

The richly-gilded butterfly. 

I've found that most of earthly things 

Are well provided with fleet wings: 

When oft my hand I'd stretch to grasp 

A something which I ne'er could clasp — 

The thought would come — "How strange life seems. 

Are all our projects only dreams?" 

'Twas thus until experience taught 

That airy castles fall to naught. 



Wild were the winds at even, about the sea-girt shore, 

Dark lowered the angry heavens, dread was he tempest's roar. 

From out a safe protection, I, in my childish glee 

Beheld without reflection, the danger-threatened sea. 

A hoary-headed sailor, in rapturous awe stood near, 

His face, each moment, paler, tho' not, I ween, from fear. 

"My child," he said in accents which spoke the surging breast, 

"Full forty years I've baffled the ocean's wild unrest: 

'Mid scenes like this I've wandered and oft recrossed the main, 

My heart e'er grows the fonder, its waves my hopes retain. 

Talk not to me of heroes who proudly tread the land, 

'Neath the foaming waves and billows lie the bravest of our band. 

They were, in truth, real heroes, braving danger's darkest night 

And they asked not that their actions be inscribed on pages bright. 

No, they did their parts all nobly, worked for fame that's not of time, 

73 



TTiey were men with manly bosoms, tending to an aim sublime. 
'Round them night and day, God's vastness, in the sea and sky 

displayed 
Removed every sordid longing and true nobles of them made. 
Oh, the ocean, wild, tempestuous, rushing to and fro so free: 
Bears within its mighty bosom, lessons all unknown to thee. 
Had I poet's tongue, I'd tell thee that beneath the flowing tide 
There are caves and mountains grander than all the world beside. 
How the ocean, rising, falling, laves the caverns of the deep, 
Where are hid unnumbered jewels, treasured there in silent sleep. 
Caves of coral, rich in shading, set with sapphires, diamonds rare, 
Shells of glowing rainbow colors, holding pearls of lustre fair, 
Wealth of ages brightly glist'ning on the mountain's towering peak — 
Earthly charms bear no comparing, and not rashly do I speak. 
For beneath the waters angry, full many a fathom low. 
As a diver, I descended where the silent currents flow. 
I could sing of coral cities and of fairy sea-weed bowers 
Where the mermaids twine their tresses, and while the gladsome 

hours, 
I could tell of mighty monsters that a constant vigil keep. 
And of myriad tiny insects working marvels in the deep. 
Beneath the unconscious sea-foam, washed by the surging tide 
Guarded by jealous waters, Nature's rarest charms abide. 
Earth may tell of noble structures, all her varied grandeur name — 
Treasures like unto the ocean's, were never known to fame. 
Earth may revel in her music all her wealth of melody. 
But for me, — the wild, sad harmony and music of the sea." 
The storm had almost ended, the moon's pale silver light 
Fell o'er the troubled waters, ere the seamen bade "good-night." 
I still looked out thro' the darkness and into the Future's sea, 
And thought of Life's broad ocean, yet to be sailed by me. 



74 



-^^§^^^::S&^^^ii^?miS^^ 



I scanned its peaceful surface, dived 'neath its foaming waves, 
Looked at the wreck of ages hid in its mystic caves. 
I saw there gHstening currents, where scarcely a ripple floats. 
Where heart's hide their deepest secrets, and souls, their tenderest 

notes; 
Tliere gleamed forth the mind's pure jewels reflecting Heaven's own 

light 
Like to the Deep's rich treasures stored from our mortal sight. 
There were virtues of purest lustre formed e'en in sorrow's night 
Plain, unembellished heart-gems, with mildest radiance bright: 
Then, sadly I gazed at virtues with passions thick gath'ring 'round. 
Like pearls in the ocean's caverns 'mid the harrowing debris found. 
I recoiled at the horrible monsters which boldly their presence showed. 
With the gentle, the pure, and holy, side by side, in that vast abode. 
My heart quailed at the hurrying tempests bearing frail barks along 
And I asked: Will I ever be able to cope with a current so strong? 
Can I pass o'er the seething billows of Life's unsettled sea 
And the brine of its bitter waters be yet untasted by me? 
Shall I glide along in my voyage, 'neath a clear and cloudless sky, 
While the ruin of other vessels with the current keeps hurrying by? 
Dare I tempt its angry waters for the treasures its depths contain? 
Will its syren voice deceive me with its music and glad refrain? 
Shall the beckoning peaks of its mountains, my soul's deep ambition 

stir, 
Till I scale their heights for the fleeting, while the lasting I weakly 

defer, 
Dare I breast its seductive currents, in their onward, hurrying flow, 
Or trust the heavens above me, more than the waters below? 
Will my strength be aught for the voyage, will my sight be clear to 

guide, 
Shall I know the harbor of safety where my ship may securely bide. 



Shall I trust the shore that receives me, or the smile on faces I meet 
Can I read aright the message, each soul sends, my soul to greet? 
O God! I cried in my terror. Thou Master of wind and wave! 
To Thee I come in my weakness — ^Thou only art able to save, 
From the shoals and the whirlpool protect me, O God! Thou alone 

art strong 
To Thee I consign my vessel! to Thee shall I ever belong! 



Thy way may oft be saddened 
And crossed by sorrow's form: 

But the darkest clouds not always 
Predict a coming storm. 

Bright days have oft succeeded 
Dawns almost shorn of light: 

So, in our lives, deep shadows 
May not portray the night. 

And e'en when sorrow cometh, 
We may look for joy at hand: 

They seem to me twin sisters 
Gliding swiftly o'er the land. 

Turn, then, thy eyes to Heaven 
And trust thy all to God. 

Forget not, pain and sorrow 

Marked the path our Saviour trod. 



76 



1 



®I|c Platcti 



Brs. 



*Twas a glorious night, 
The moon shone bright, 

The stars all brilliant were— 
When we four sat 
To watch for that 

Old robber that didn't stir. 

He stirred mayhap. 
But did not rap 

At doors of ours around. 
Nor did we spy 
Him creeping by. 

Quite softly o'er the ground. 

The night was chill 
But we had our fill 

Of wrappings and of shawls: 
For Gertrude made 
A wondrous raid 

On those hung in the halls. 

"If we must work, 
We'll not it shirk," 

'Twas thus she thought and said, 
As 'round she came 
With pickles and game 

And slices of buttered bread. 

Then fell to her post 
As hot as toast, 

Wrapped up in a dozen shawls, 
Till the clock struck four: 
When we watched no more: 

But made haste to the upper halls 

77 



Ignatia cool, 
'Tis e'er her rule 

To take ease when she can, 
Just sat her down 
Without a frown 

To look out for the man. 

Content she was 
To yield to laws 

Which made her guard that night: 
For well she knew 
That robbers few 

Would give us e'en a fright. 

Francesca hied 
To the eastern side, 

And shouldered there, her gun. 
Her big brown eyes 
From earth to skies 

She turned till rise of sun. 

But naught she saw, 
Tho' filled with awe 

At strange sounds from below, 
A key would turn (?) 
And her heart would burn — 

With courage all aglow. 

The study hall, 
A room not small 

I paced for many an hour. 
Sleep off I shook 
And glances took 

At paths and shady bower. 



Steps oft I'd hear 
And think — "He's near, 

The lad for whom we're staying:" 
But just as e'er 
What's looked for ne'er 

Comes on without delaying. 

Dark shadows flung 
The trees among 

Did many a strange shape borrow, 
No human form 
With thought of harm 

Came forth, much to our sorrow. 

The night was spent 
In vain intent 

Of doing something great — 
'Twould be a relief 
Could we catch the thief. 

But he was for us — a mate. 



Dear Josie, may you ever, as day is added unto day, 

Gather rich fruits of virtue for life's tempestuous way. 

Scatter blossoms sweet of kindness so dear to every heart 

Along your daily pathway: 'tis every Christian's part. 

Be pure and good and earnest, heaven is for the true: 

Real pleasure is in virtue, this thought, keep e'er in view. \ 

The soul in prayer soars upward and thro' life's mortal strife, " 

Will learn the benedictions of Heaven's endless life. 

Our Mother Mary loves us! what greater bliss to know! 

She'll guard our footsteps ever as we journey here below. 



-^^s^^^ 



gxmt mmatk ParbUr. 

birdie sing! How sweet each note 
You pour from tiny graceful throat! 

It makes my soul with joy abound 
Whilst listening to your tuneful sound. 

Your words not mine, and yet my heart 
Must in your bliss and thanks take part. 

1 seem to know what you would say 
When warbling soft at break of day. 

From out my slumbers called by you, 
I give my heart to God anew. 
With your sweet notes my prayer ascends 
To ask fresh grace for all my friends. 



Happy birthday greetings, Sadie, 
May thy future years be blest: 

Whatever sorrow shall assail thee. 
Let it not destroy thy rest. 

For, remember, care and sorrow 
Are man's portion here below; 

But they herald a tomorrow 
Saddened not by tears of woe. 

Then, dear Sadie, turn thou ever 
To that God Whose child thou art: 

-He'll protect thee and will sever 

Each dark chain which binds thy heart. 



With courageous heart press onward 

In thy duty swerving not: 
Angel hands will keep the record 

Mark with love thy good deeds wrought. 

All our blessings shall attend thee! 

Wheresoever thy footsteps roam, 
And we'll hope to meet our Sadie 

In our bright eternal Home. 



A gift for thee, what shall I ask? 

All blessings great and small? 
My child, ril ask a greater still 

That life's ills ne'er appall. 

Sweet may its passage be for thee, 

Joys truest, always thine: 
A little sorrow chasteneth too. 

Of God's elect, the sign. 

Safe in His arms repose, my child. 

He'll steer thy bark aright: 
Thou needst not fear the breaker's force, 

Nor dread the darkest night. 

Life's pleasures vain and shallow are 
Unblest by God's sweet smile, 

Wish not for them, despise them all: 
They touch but to defile. 

A noble heart possess fore'er 

True to thyself and God, 
Then happy thou and blest the path, 

E'en 'neath life's sorrowing rod. 

81 



1 



1 



(31n ^btvs2 ^mtrs. 

Where are now the friends we cherished? 

Where's their longed-for love to soothe? 
Are they near with strengthening comfort 

Life's dark path and rough to smoothe? 
Ah! they're weak, but would be loyal, 

Trust we much to mortal mould: 
Jesus longs for our affection 

And our human hearts to hold. 
But we give, and give most freely 

Almost force the gift so great 
To the keeping of His creatures 

Asking Him, meanwhile, to wait. 
In life's dark, oppressive hours. 

Friendship often yields to fear; 
Few will bravely breast the current 

And our threatened bark stay near. 
But we blame not this their weakness, 

None find fault with sightless eyes: 
No one chides the knife of surgeon 

Used by master-hand and wise. 
God is over all our happenings 

And He smites thro' love alone: 
Quick His ear to catch each quiver 

Of our suffering hearts and moan. 
In our hours of double anguish 

We shall ask His love to bless 
Those who know not what we suffer 

That we miss their fond caress. 



82 



^ag of ^nif^ssttm. 

My heart turns to you, my own sister, 

As I trace the years thirty-five gone. 
To the mom when in novice's habit 

I was clothed at the earUest dawn. 

It was your bridal day, oh, my sister, 

With what fervor your lips spoke the word 

Which made you His faithful one ever 
And the depth of your deepest love stirred! 

I can see you now beaming with gladness 
See the smile which e'en yet is your own. 

Watch your form with youth's buoyancy springing. 
Hear you greet me in happiest tone. 

Then I scan year by year as it passes, 

And with sisterly pride see well-filled 
Your measure of days, with kind actions, 

Read the lessons your life-work instilled. 

How oft have your praises from others 

For the hope and the strength they had gained 

By your earnest example and helping, 
My soul's drooping spirits sustained! 

You are strong, O my Sister, in loving, 
Greater faith than yours ne'er can be found; 

Your brilliant mind ne'er has been darkened, 
And your hope leaps beyond earthly bound. 

Like your own dear St. Francis, God sent you 
The wounds which Love gives to its own — 

Hands and feet, yes, and heart too, have known them, 
A martyr, you'll stand near His Throne. 



83 



In each agonized hour I'm with you, 
In the lonely nights, think of me near. 

Not a pain, nor can anguish come to you, 
Which I have not suffered, first, here. 

But we know that His visits are blessings. 
That ere long, we shall meet far above, 

Mother and father and brothers — 
To spend with them, ages of love. 



Myrtle leaves I twine for you with floral gifts today. 

Anemones, so delicate, my sweetest wishes say. 

Red flowers from the "Buming Bush" that friendship true will stay. 

Iris blue, a message takes of prayer to shield from harm. 

Each blossom that I cull for you, love's nosegay helps to form. 

Magnolia blooms and fragrance rich will weariness destroy. 
Cape Jasimine says your heart is full of pure and girlish joy. 

Camations hold their heads so high, they pleasure oft dispel. 
Use Olive branch your whole life through, of peace serene to tell. 
Lilacs send their fragrant flowers to turn our thoughts to God. 
Lilies pure and violets lie hidden in the sod. 
Our Mother Mary's spotlessness, the first of these portray. 
Unless we stoop, we cannot find where royal purples stay. 
Geranium of roseate hue, high character will show. 
Hearts-ease— From out your memory, I would not wish to go. 



84 



Our paths are thickly strewn with care, 
Life's pleasures, fleeting are, at best: 

May well our hearts the lesson learn 
Quod non aeternum, nihil est. 

Today our friends will sweetly smile, 
Tomorrow's sun shall rise and set: 

But, ere its setting, we shall find 
Quod non aeternum, nil valet. 

All things of earth are bubbles vain 
Alluring with their rainbow hue: 

Thy heart too noble is for such 
Nil non aeternum, ames tu. 



Flowers you love for their beauty^ 
Pure pearls from the dark blue main: 

But you prize more than all such treasures. 
Glowing thoughts from the poet's brain. 

Tho' I claim not the poet's rich fancy, 

I will write you the thoughts which now come: 

Whispers sweet from the far away Heaven 
Come back o'er our life's busy hum. 

The strains which my spirit now catches 
And which the air stirr'd softly brings, 

Are those from the Angels' sweet anthems. 
Which only the Angels can sing. 



85 



Oh, they're telHng to us happy mortals 
That earth has begun a new mom, 

That, the Orient, King of all Brightness; 

Has, this day, as the Christ-Child been bom. 

And the air, it is filled with sweet singing 
While the zephyrs keep listening still. 

To the "Glory to God in the highest" 
And "Peace unto men of good will!*' 

Oh, Heaven, today, would be empty. 
Did Heaven not reach to the earth: 

For the Choirs Celestial are thronging 
'Round the lowliest spot of Christ's birth. 

And, so, dearest Sister, we're happy 

And children we all are today. 
Since the God of the Ages Eternal, 

In Bethlehem's manger lay. 

I bring you a sprig of bright holly: 

How red is its berry with love! 
How green are its leaves with endurance! 

Crowned when we all meet above. 

The mistletoe, too, will I offer: 

For, its tears are not flowing you see; 

Sorrow has lost its deep anguish 

Since Christ came, our Brother to be. 

Have my words failed to carry in music 
The Angels' sweet message for you? 

Then, my limning is all that is erring: 
For the song was rich melody true. 

God give you a Yule-tide most happy. 
Your longings I know you shall win: 

For the soul which loves only tme beauty. 
Has treasures unending within. 

86 



When I gather a few of my verses 

For a Rose of the Musical Clime, 
I feel that my lines should be ringing 

With richness of rhythm and rhyme. 

Shall I stay in the present with duty, 
Or, turn to the past with our loves? 

Ah! the young are God's sweetest of blossoms. 
Their hearts pure as heavenly doves. 

Drop of years— shall I say it? — three decades, 
Then the picture I'll paint you tonight, 

Of your spring-time of life and loved faces. 
Will seem as of yore, ever bright. 

Do you hear their glad voices at even? 

Are you kneeling beside them at prayer? 
Have your class-books the look as of olden? 

The only thing bringing you care? 

Do I see you now reading a letter? 

From "Dear old Pa Nestor" I know. 
Naught else in those sunny days, Rosie, 

Caused such love-light of pleasure to glow. 

Where are now all those dear ones we cherished? 

Some are far, few are near, many gone, — 
Gone over the billows forever. 

Awaiting Eternity's dawn. 

We are here and we love to turn backward 
The heart's gaze on faces we knew, 

Their smiles chase the gloomiest shadows 
And life's restless longings subdue. 



87 



Some, like us, are still breasting the breakers, 
And watching the storm clouds roll by, 

Are fearing lest leaks in the timbers 
May show, ere the harbor be nigh. 

And others we've lost in the mazes 

Of fashion and gayety's throng: 
We feel that their hearts still are golden 

Tho' lured by mirth's syren-like song. 

You are sweeping the chords of earth's music, 
While learning the technique of love: 

That a Cross and a Thorn-Crown and Lancet 
Are the key-notes in Heaven above. 

And I? Well, I'm watching your progress, 
And learning life's lessons by heart. 

We must drink or Christ's Chalice, my sister, 
Or not of His Kingdom take part. 

We have arms, the most potent, dear Rosie, 
Of Charity sweet and of prayer; 

Let use them with earnest devotion 
For Heaven, our trysting-place fair. 



Increase the Faith which came to me 
Thro' dear ones now with Thee: 

Give me their Robe of Justice found, 

Their hope which leaped all earthly bound, 

Religion's wealth — a goodly store. 
Give me their love— and more. 



88 



I dreamed of you my darling, 

In my waking hours, too, 
I saw the tear-drops raining 

From your tender eyes of blue. 
I could even hear your heart-throbs 

And your spirit moaning low, 
When the dismal form of sadness 

From your presence would not go. 
Quick my heart leaped forth in pity, 

Reached my hand your grief to stay, 
When I saw the Master walking 

Close beside you, on the way. 
I drew apart and watched you 

As He gazed with loving eyes 
And I felt the burden heavy 

At His touch would surely rise. 
On my knees I dropped and begged Him 

My precious one to aid. 
His answer — "Long I loved her 

Ere the firmament was made." 
But I felt a further whisper 

My deepest soul entwine: — 
"The heart untouched by sorrow, 

Ne'er can enter into Mine." 
So, resigned, I bowed my spirit 

To His Will for you and me. 
The Spouse of Christ must suffer, 

To make perfect — Charity. 



89 



Over many paths we've wondered 
In the years which lie between 

Our youthful days so golden 
And life's wintry season keen. 

We've crossed the mountain's summit, 
We've looked beyond the plain, 

We've scanned oft-changing landscapes, 
In nature's wide domain. 

We've read life's secrets written 

On glad or grief-worn face, 
We've seen the buoyant marching 

And met laggards in the race. 

But the lesson learned, — the sweetest, 
Thro' all the changing years 

And shifting scenes of life-time. 
Is Charity sincere. 

It asks us to deal gently, 
To judge not act or thought, 

To make our journey blessed 
With only kindness fraught. 

It finds the truths most hidden. 

Develops graces fair, 
It brings to light and brilliancy 

Heart-gems most rich and rare. 

It tarries not with mortals. 

But rises to His throne, 
With those who've gained love's coronet 

Who lived for Love alone. 



90 



There are seasons of sadness and longing. 

There are seasons of gladness and gain, 
There are days when we hear but joy's singing, 

There are days when we know but life's pain. 
We cling to the hours that are brightest, 

Turn away from a cloud covered sky. 
We take to our hearts joys the lightest, 

Brush away sorrow's tear from the eye. 
But always there comes with life's trials 

A peace bom in Heaven, we know; 
Lowering clouds are but veils which are hiding 

God's sunshine's enveloping glow. 



Once I knew a lily fair to look upon; 
Glowing in the noonday, placid in the dawn. 
Like to softest velvet was its spotless cup, 
And it stood so hopeful, telling all — "Look up!" 

One dark day I saw it, with a drooping brow, 
Chilling winds had touched it, gone its brightness, now. 
"Tender flower," thought I, "gentler breeze shall blow. 
Soothing dew-drops moisten, warmth restore life's glow.' 

Glad, once more, I saw it. Zephyrs 'round it then, 
Wamingly, I whispered, "Storms may come again; 
But in gale or calmness exhale happiness. 
Pouring out love's portion, keeping none-the-less." 

For life's lesson teaches joyousness expands; 
Generously giving fills both heart and hands. 
And the golden pistil, in my lily fair, 
Pointing up to Heaven says — our gain is there. 

91 



^tn^i of tl|^ ^urtftcatton. 

A year, my dear Sister, has vanished, 
A year — shall I call it — of grace? 

Let me read in its passage a story — 
A story, time ne'er may efface. 

Bright the lights in your chapel, that morning, 
Our Lady's sweet Feast had rolled 'round, 

And candles were blessed for the Altar 
With rites which are always profound. 

Then followed the Sacrifice Holy, 

Love's victim was offered anew: 
Prayers for living and dead the priest offered. 

But the tenderest prayers were for you. 

We knelt, you cind I, close together: 
I knew well your burden of prayer. 

On your brow was the shadow of sorrow, — 
A shadow which vanished not there. 

It came not to pay you a visit, 

But to walk by your side, night and day — 
I have seen it, I know it, I've felt it— 

Every phase I can clearly portray. 

But, that shadow, my Sister, has brought you 
Abundance of grace and sweet peace: 

To your loneliest heart Jesus whispered, 
"My child, all your cares, I'll release." 

He looked back thro' many long ages, 

Saw His Mother's Pure Heart deeply stirred 

When from Simeon's lips, "Holy Maiden, 
Thy soul shall be pierced," Mary heard. 



92 



-^^2§^^^:>^^«^i^^^5fej^i^ 



And, the Heart of our God, oh, so tender, 
On His Mother's Pure Feast could not will 

That your soul should be surged by dark billows 
And He said to the waters "Be still!" 

He sent you His Comforting Angel 
With a promise of brightness in store. 

It is coming, — the cloudlets are breaking, 
Joy is launching her bark for Love's shore. 

By your side I'll not stay in the dawning 
Of an hour I've wished you for long. 

But in spirit I'll witness its beaming 
And join in your soul's grateful song. 



Ah, little stranger, how welcome you are, 

Your father's own cradle possessing! 
So short seems the while since his own baby smile 

Joyed the heart of his mother caressing. 

And now, she looks on while her baby's first babe 
Fills the old home with love's fullest measure. 

Her eyes are as bright and her heart just as light 
And how warmly she clasps her own treasure! 

Do you know, little maid, that the steaming train West 

Is carrying the news to Aunt Mary? 
Will "Martha" sound well, there your presence to tell 

And the name of her Richard's dear Fairy? 



93 



May you grow like Aunt Martha in all that is good, 
Drinking deep of life's sunshine and glory; 

Learn the songs of the birds and the flowers' sweet words 
On your soul writing Nature's best story. 

Be you brave like your namesake, Leona, most true, 
From your heart what is noble, ne'er sever. 

As Aurelia, your skies be all golden likewise 
Then, an Angela pure, be you ever. 



O what beauty now is falling 
On this drear old earth of ours, 

Dreary only from our making 

Which should glow as Eden's bowers. 

Whitest garment, down not softer, 
Crevice deep, or hill adorning; 

Twigs on trees, and tiny grass blades 
Robes them all this wintry morning. 

E'en the blue of Heaven's hidden 
By the snow clouds intervening; 

Earth and sky and air are spotless 
Darkness slips behind the screening. 

Would our souls were fair as Nature, 
With no taint of sin's dread shame, 

Then, God's image, pure, eternal, 
Could the endless ages claim. 



94 



mij^ ©to nnh ^tio fear. 

As we sit and watch each dying ember 

While quickly change the glowing coals to black, 

Thought on thought leads in to last December, 
Time's swiftly fled by on his onward track. 

Oh, the visions which our sorrowing minds rack 
Of sad events within the past contained, 

Which to us are warnings kindly sent back, 

From the yearly page which oft our deeds have stained, 
And we see how little of all our works remained! 

As we look into the year departed. 

Nameless joys and griefs again arise: 
Wonder we why time has not imparted 

Power to comfort and to drown our sighs. 
Yet, why sigh we? Ah, deep in the past lies 

Many a moment burdened with deep pain. 
By such moments taught, we've now become wise 

With a wisdom which shall be all vain 

Unless we take to heart the lessons which remain. 

On the pages of the past discern we 

Ignoble deeds, just like unsightly blots 
That our pure white charts have covered wholly, 

And now fill us with repentant thoughts. 
Temptations often fell unto our lot. 

With God's grace we could have Satan vanquished. 
And our souls cleansed from all sinful spots, 

Now, we mourn to see those moments vanished. 
And from our souls sweet peace and comfort banished. 



95 



On time rushes, ever heedless onward! 

Gone the past, the present year in motion. 
On its current we are carried forward. 

Tossed about as straws upon the ocean. 
In our hands are placed by God, the oars. 

And strength He'll give for us to sail aright. 
If we struggle hard, like skillful rowers. 

We need not fear the hidden shoals by night, 

We'll safely pass the storms and welcome the daylight. 

The fleecy snow before the spring-time sunbeams 
Soon melts away and vanishes from view: 

So, too, will pass the present year's bright gleams 
And, like the past, will take a sad adieu: 

We're verging onward, yes, onward to the tomb. 
Let's cling to life, but to live noble-hearted. 

Throughout this world, for kindly deeds, what room! 
Let's mourn not at the last rich graces thwarted, 
And see with time all hope for us departed. 



My child, wilt give thy heart to me? 

'Tis all I ask, the world is mine. 
Yea, thousand worlds, more grand than this, 

Could I create, e'en at a sign. 
But such is not the gift I crave — 

I long, my child, thy heart to own, 
Divest it, then, of all but Me, 

That I may place it on love's throne. 



96 



^tvitvdB of ®ur 'flnb^ an iiie ^mmntvdntn ^ofoer. 

For years have Mary's children 

Looked with love, each day and hour, 

On the old stone fortress standing 
The Immaculata Tower. 

They have pondered on the meaning 

Of that temple standing high, 
And have learned how love had built it 

Reaching upward to the sky. 

Placed to vindicate the honor 
Of her Son's most precious Name 

And the symbol of redemption 
To the worldly-wise proclaim. 

Now, today, they gather round it, 

Her own image to place nigh 
The golden cross which glitters 

Against the deep blue sky. 

And Science bears its offering 

A flood of purest light, 
To show our Mother guards us 

Throughout the darkest night. 

Our Morning Star, our Mother, 
Announces Day's Great King, 

The Sun of Justice, Jesus, 
All saving grace to bring. 

Then calmly may we labor 

And sweetly seek our rest 
While the Queen of Heaven watches 

The Queen City of the West. 

97 



We crown the proud victor with laurel, 

The orator's brow wreathe with bay, 
Place a palm-branch on tomb of the martyrs. 

O'er our dead, weeping cypress we lay. 
We place friends in shrines of affection, 

Give grateful return for kind deeds, 
Smile for smile gladly offer in parting 

As onward our life journey speeds. 
We think not of one benefactor 

Who merits our hearts 's love and prayer. 
Till, suffering's presence unwelcome 

Presents of life's anguish our share. 
Then he comes with his rich balm of healing. 

With tones which both soothe and caress, 
Waking mom, or high noon, waning evening, 

E'en at midnight his visit we bless. 
Who thinks that his heart grows most weary 

When he views souls' dark struggle with sin. 
That his days and his nights oft are dreary, 

No ray of bright sunshine within. 
To the sick and the wretched he tenders 

Care and skill with a fatherly hand, 
Scripture tells us "Revere the Physician" 

For the good which he does through the land. 
So, we come, dearest friend, here to offer 

These apartments we've fitted with care 
May they give you sweet comfort and cheering 

With pleasures the truest and rare. 
May God's Angel of Peace be your solace 

Giving rest and contentment fore'er. 
Till the Master Physician shall call you 

His love and His Kingdom to share. 



®{|c (Exams. 

I send you a blossom this morning. 

The earHest flower of spring, 
Which peeps from its home 'neath the snow flakes, 

With the first happy songster to sing. 
The bird and the fair httle crocus 

All joyously pour forth their lays, 
For they wish like all beautiful creatures 

To offer their Maker due praise. 
O dear little bird and sweet flower! 

My prayer has been offered for long 
And my heart's warmest hope for my dear ones 

Soars aloft with your fragrance and song. 



For daily needs, O Lord! I come to you; 

The future vast my soul fills with dismay. 
Father Omniscient! who all things can view. 

Give to your child her needed strength, each day. 



What were life without it? 

But a living death. 
With it, e'en in sorrow, 

Happiness each breath. 



-^fe^^^^^>.^^z^i«^^2feJ^i^ 



Could I reach the pure veins in the mountain, . 

And bring forth the richest of ore, 
What were that since the Master has blessed you 

With treasures— a bountiful store? 

You have home, and home's love-lights undying, 
You are honored by noblest of men, 

All about us your goodness is written. 
On the mountain, the wayside, the glen. 

Not for these would I make you my offering 

A pass-port to Heaven I give; 
You have banished dread sickness and sorrow, 

Brought the sufferer courage to live. 

Because lowly he was, and forgotten, 

You fulfilled the Great Master's command. 

And His promise is ever unfailing: 

"Such," He says, "shall inherit the land." 

"Whoso to the least of my brethren 

An action of kindness shall do, 
I shall count it as done to Me only," 

This, I hear Him today, say to you. 



Remember, man, thy origin 

From earth: — to earth's green sod. 

Thy soul, from the eternal. 
Finds rest alone in God. 



100 



'I know," leap from my lips the joyous words 
While heart and soul are all aflame. 

'Him I believe, my King, my God!" 
Forever blessed His Holy Name. 



Why doubtest thou, O man! 

Thou atom in the universal plan? 
Why wonderest thou at aught that e'er may be? 

'Tis God who doth: canst thou not see? 



Terror, yesterday, and sorrow: 

Man's dark deed made earth bemoan: 
Glory, now, and joy supernal 

Christ, Redemption's seed has sown. 



A beauteous garb has Nature spread 
O'er the dreary wintry wold: 

Intrepretations kind may change 
Life's darksome hues to gold. 



101 



We walk upon the earth 

Nor can it ever rise 
Above our human hearts 

While life within them lies. 

When earth becomes our tomb, 
Our spirit high has flown, 

Our tenement of clay 
Returns to dust alone. 

Then why let earthly things 

Our nobler part degrade? 
As nothing hold, what's less than self. 

Ourselves for God were made. 



Come, Pegasus, they bid me to scale Parnassus' height. 

And send from airy regions, poetic lines of light. 

Then haste thee with this lesson from sky cind earth* 

green sod 
All beautiful is Nature — Unspeakable is God! 



God bless my Eve with health and strength. 

And every other blessing! 
God keep her dear ones tried and true 

No ill their lives distressing! 
God crowTi her days with love and grace. 

Her heart all joy caressing. 



102 



'^^SSm^^l^^^^s^a^^^m^M^^ 



Stay with us, Lord, the day is waning fast. 

The sun high heaven has crossed, is speeding to the West. 
Life's dazzhng glare, its beckoning peaks are passed, 

'Tis eventide, O Lord, Thy presence brings us rest. 



There are garments of gold and of scarlet, 
There is ermine with purple to wear: 

To the plain little cap and black habit 
There is nothing on earth to compare. 

For under this head-dress unworldly, 

Are the Lord's brightest gifts of the mind, 

And beating 'neath habits so sombre. 
Hearts warmest and true, do we find. 



Whence do you come, O most beautiful snow? 

Crystallized water they call you, I know. 

Daintiest patterns of heaven-made lace. 

Every part perfect, each in its place. 

Bring here your microscope, scientists, tell 

What forces sculptured these? Nature does well. 

Nature, God's handmaid, things marvelous wrought 

Back in the ages of no human thought. 

O foolish man! let thy inner soul say 

"To light what thou searchest. 

Thou must have God's ray." 



103 



''^i is '^xpthimt for feu ®l|at ^ (So/' 

In life's darkest hour, O Jesus, 
This we hear, and bow us low, 

In our humblest acquiescence: 
"Useful for you, that I go." 

Ah! You go, but never leave us; 

For in You we move and live, 
Tho' our "eyes are held" in darkness 

Faith a light our souls will give. 

How could we upon the pathway, 

Narrow, rugged, which leads Home, 

Keep our courage, with You absent? 
Oft our footsteps far would roam. 

We would sit us down aweary. 

Backward look when we should climb 

Where You wait in years eternal 
Following our earth and time. 



faster ^Bfftst}, 

Flowers, birds, and skies of blue, 
Bring to us a message true: 
Christ is risen, earth rejoice, 
Blessed all who hear His voice. 
May your life, dear Sallie, be 
Filled with love's sweet ecstasy. 

104 



Into my daily life you've entered 

And claimed my tenderest thought 
Like clinging vines rose-laden 

A wealth of joy you've brought. 
Our dear ones gone have left you 

Their priceless gifts from Heaven, 
I take you to my heart of hearts 

And guard the precious seven. 

Unseen your loved are watching 

As we toil upon the way 
And their fervent prayers protecting 

Their darlings, day by day, 
Oh, they measure the eternal 

Not the things of fleeting time, 
While their ears know but the music 

Of love's re-echoing chime. 

We shall meet them in the gloaming 

When time's night is drawing near 
And the chorus of the Angels 

From afar shall reach our ear. 
Never more a separation 

Joys supernal we shall know 
We shall live thro' years eternal 

Our hearts with love aglow. 



Today, there's praise, there's flattery; 

Tomorrow we're as naught: 
What's high above us only 

Is worth an anxious thought. 



105 



patron ^mnts^ 

For a tiny Sister who claims a tiny saint, 
Only with a dainty brush should I try to paint. 
Colors the most delicate I should have at hand, 
And most perfect models too, be at my command. 

You are Agnes Mary, Roman maiden fair. 
And the Queen of Heaven! shall I even dare 
With my pen or pencil likeness try to trace, 
Of our peerless Mother, or Agnes* gentle face? 

Oh that we could enter into Mary's Heart 

Learn her deep humility and gain a little part 

If we had her Charity, burning love for all, 

We would turn unto her Jesus, who answers every call. 

And our sweet St. Agnes, purer than the snow. 
She will give us innocence eternally to glow. 
She will teach us courage to brave all things but sin, 
And the love of Jesus have, our deepest soul within. 

Then, let us bend us humbly at our Mother's shrine, 
With her virtues tell her— how we'd love to shine. 
Like our little name-sake, martyrs we would be, 
If not to blood our portion, at least, of Charity. 



Angelic choirs thronging 
With tribute to their King, 

Before thee low saluting, 
"Immaculate!" they sing. 

106 



"Cloin0, tlfgxtiart, teacly ge ail Rations." 

Thus spoke our Lord in times which now are olden, 

Yet His command is living with us still; 
His followers hear the mandate, rise with fervor. 

And going forth, proclaim His words and Will. 

Not unto Pagan tribes your footsteps wending, 

Do you fulfill this mission of your God, 
But to His "little ones," His tenderest portion 

You've borne His message thro' the lands you trod. 

From north to south or east and farthest westward. 

In Apostolic style you journey on, 
You seek your rest where duty speaks the welcome. 

Your heart aglow with fervor, at the dawn. 

You see fair, stainless, souls look from their windows, 
Those childish eyes so earnest and sincere, 

You read the longing of their inmost spirits 
For living bread and fountains ever clear. 

You know the danger which besets their pathway. 

How evil boldly brings itself to view, 
That powers of darkness never grow aweary. 

As raging lions gentle lambs pursue. 

To gird their hearts and judgments for life's conflict, 
The Spirit's Gifts you know must deeply dwell; 

True knowledge, then, will fill their souls with gladness, 
Keep safe their fancy from the tempter's spell. 



107 



^^^§Sc^^^::S&€^^i^6?m^S^^ 



Religion's handmaids all, as their companions, 
Fair Science, Music, Art in every form, 

Will ope new vistas of their God's perfections, 
With greater love their sinless hearts to warm. 

And wdth no stain of sin upon the mantle 

Which clothes them when Baptismal waters pour. 

To highest peaks of learning rising ever, 

They reach the Triune Godhead reigning o'er. 

What care you then, if toil be e'er your portion? 

Christ rested not His followers among; 
His Father's Will as daily food He counted. 
While eager crowds unto His teaching clung. 

Go on then, Sister dear, in your endeavors: 
Great is your calling — past all thought the gain; 

"They who instruct to justice," says our Saviour, 
"As stars in Heaven's firmament shall reign. " 



108 



@0ll^^lt JJw^tH^^* 



^^Us arc Olfjtmmg, ^carts ^c|mctng. 

Bells are chiming, hearts rejoicing, souls pour forth their song: 

Flowers wear their richest petals, Jubilee notes, the birds prolong. 

Haste your children glad to greet you crowned with Fifty Years, 

Years of love for God and others, chastened by Lite's tears. 

Joyously we turn our footsteps thro' five decades past: 

On every day, on every act, our eyes we proudly cast. 

When young in years and pure of heart "Another Christ" to be, 

The world with all its 'luring charms, you spurned so generously. 

You raised your standard heavenward, — that standard was the cross, 

And forth you marched to victory; your record bears no loss. 

Let us with honest pride today, review the century's half. 

And ere we name your honored deeds, the Spring of Truth we quaff. 

In the grand old halls of lettered fame, St. Mary's, or in Rome, 

In memory's niche, on tablet old, your name has found a home. 

You stood before the Levites young, a pattern fair to view: 

The beauty of God's House they saw forever shine in you. 

The fire of His ministry your heart and soul consumed: 

All thought of self or earthly gain, how quickly you entombed. 

The lambs you so well guarded, that the Master placed His sheep 

Beneath your prayerful watching, their pathways straight to keep. 

How well you've filled your office; the trust you've held, how high? 

Nor tongue nor pen can tell it; 'tis written 'bove the sky. 

O'er every path of sorrow your feet have trodden oft. 

And wretched, sick, or dying have blessed your tones so soft. 

Where poverty had pillaged, there relief your mercy brought. 

And contagion's banished victims, by your love were ever sought. 

No miser's wealth you covet, but to give is your delight, 

And your life throughout, dear Father, ravishes Angelic sight. 

We Imow that Sorrow's visits have been often at your door: 

For Jesus' path was thorny, and His Saints must walk it o'er. 

You left the "Land of Flowers" an aged Patriarch to uphold: 

The roses here had faded, touched by misfortune's cold. 

Ill > 



You faced the chilling tempest, you stayed the hurrying wrath, 
And you drove the feverish vapors from Religion's holy path. 
Lo! 'tis meet today, Rejoicing should spread her wings afar, 
And no sound should wake the echo which one moment's joy could 

mar. 
Let Cathedral chimes their music with all instruments unite, 
Let each voice throughout our country hail you. Champion of the 

Right! 
But, most of all, your children exult this day to see. 
And we beg that Golden graces may light your Jubilee. 
We'll mark v/ith Golden letters its memory on our heart, 
And your example Golden, of our lives shall form a part: 
So that, when ten future lustra, to these ten shall added be. 
You'll still in us be working, throughout eternity. 
Praise to our God in Heaven! whose gift to us, you are. 
And wafted benedictions pass on from star to star. 
May unnumbered Alleluias thro' the universe resound. 
And Peace, the Spirit's fruit, today, be sweetly, spread around. 
That the outer Court of Heaven, may seem whereon we stand, 
In view, your prize, dear Father, a Throne on God's Right Hand. 



Fifty years! — a golden harvest. 

Image of the Master's field. 

Fifty rounds of endless labor 

Thro' them all, a noble yield: 

Years in which, Christ's love you wield. 

Yearning years! that Heaven gather 
Every plant which you have sown. 
And the grain unmixed with cockle 
Rear its head around the Throne, 
Saying "See the harvest all his own!" 



.12 



What anthems glad, today are sung? 

Reveals each face with story? 
Is it the oft-repeated tale 

Of Nature's opening glory? 
Sweet Spring's return with bud and bloom, 

And new life all things filling, 
The balmy air and chirp of birds, 

With gladness each heart thrilling? 

Ah! no, to other notes respond our souls 

While on their tones we ponder, 
And thro' the corridors of Time, 

Full fifty years we wander 
Our Mother's life unfolding, then, 

As ope sweet flowers of wild- wood, 
Ceased suddenly to breathe the air 

Of home and blissful childhood. 

A whispered call, — a quick response. 

And kindred ties are riven: 
"St. Joseph's Vale" in Brooklyn's stead 

Her future home is given. 
That peaceful haunt prepares her soul 

For Heaven-sent gains and crosses. 
Her lot is with those chosen ones 

Who prize earth's gains as losses. 

Count, now, who can, with vision keen 

Read a half century's record, 
The inward strifes, the vict'ries great. 

The joys and griefs unnumbered: 



13 



The hopes held fast with perfect trust 

Born of a soul confiding; 
Believing all, — suspecting none, 

Nor poor, nor weak, deriding. 

How kind her words to orphan ears! 

How gifted to the student! 
What peace she brings to novice hearts! 

With rules so mild, yet prudent. 
And, then, as Mother to us all: 

God knows the wealth of graces 
Her love of prayer has brought to each, 

Not gifts which time defaces. 



Years roll around: — a voice most dear 

Passes fore'er to silence, — taking 
Half her life, — ^yea, more than half, 

Her strongest life-chords breaking. 
For who can lose the friend of years 

Partner of joy and sorrow. 
When soul is knitted unto soul. 

And breathe full life the morrow? 



Dear Mother, 'twere not well to call 

Her name to change the gladness 
Of festal hour; but know we not 

She's here in joy or sadness. 
Our eyes indeed are blind to see 

Her form so loved, yet hidden; 
She's in each heart; 'tis told full well 

By tears which start unbidden. 



114 



She joins us all, she says, "Rejoice!" 

And brings thee fondest greeting. 
Her voice with ours in grateful lays 

Thy praise is oft repeating: 
Our prayers with hers in realms of light 

Ask Golden Graces for thee 
A crown she brings to deck thy brow 

And bless thy "Golden Jubilee." 



Bve is tf}^ ^altant ^SScimun? 



Where is the Valiant Woman? 

World, seek not amid thy throngs. 
To thy votaries weak with pleasure 

We chant not glorious songs. 
But seek among Christ's spouses, 

Find her who pain has soothed, 
Whose heart is for the homeless, 

Who Care's rough way has smoothed. 
Who reckons all things trifling 

For the glory of the Cross, 
Who smiles in sternest conflicts, 

And counts earth's gold as dross. 
She walks with strength and valor. 

Toward the victor's crown above. 
And bears the noble title, 

"Daughter of Sweet Love." 



115 



The bells are pealing joyously, with golden tongues, today, 
And nature lends her richest robes, the sun his brightest ray. 
No song of bird is happier than our heart carols true. 
Nor could the spirit's fancy form a fairer scene to view. 

We little ones are learning of the long, long fifty years. 
With all their joys and sorrows, and all their hopes and fears. 
And all the days of labor that passed, ere we could see 
Our stately church — the Rock Church— exist so gloriously. 

We love to think of olden days, when only forests great 
Upon these lovely Walnut Hills, proclaimed their proud estate. 
Flow, then, as of a sudden, God's Spirit whispered low, 
"Here, would I have a dwelling, my love for man to show," 

The grand old trees resigned their place, bent low each kingly crest, 
And gave themselves to form the house where God with man might rest. 
That home, at first was humble, but the worshipers sincere: 
And, year by year, they garnered and brought their treasures here. 

Today, they may look proudly on the work which they have done. 
To glorify the Father, and the Spirit and the Son. 

They will chant their hearts' Te Deum as they gaze on vanished years, 
For the splendor of this hour won by sacrifice and tears. 

And in the realms supernal, white-robed children anthems sing — 
The crystal waters saved them as a tribute to the King. 
The Angels of the Altar, in a chorus grand of praise. 
Recount the flow of graces since those far off early days. 

Exult the priests and people, that half a century o'er. 

The honor of God's house they love, as in the days of yore. 

So, joy and jubilation with thanks and prayer unite 

To fill all hearts with gladness, each face with love to light. 

116 



All golden is the radiance by our early history cast: 
Oh, may it still be golden when a century has passed, 
And may the grace and splendor of this our Jubilee, 
Increase lor us the virtues, of Faith, Hope, Charity. 

Then, when life's course is ended, and each one's task is done. 
We shall wear with joy in Heaven, the golden crowns we've won; 
We shall sing the endless anthems with angel choirs above, 
And eternity will be for us— a Jubilee of Love. 



Dear Mother, 'mid the glad rejoicing 

Of thy Golden Jubilee, 
Let the first of all thy children 

Bring her greetings warm to thee. 

Fleet the years have been in passing, 
Rich in fruit of toil and care: 

Numberless thy daily crosses. 

Traces deep thy brow doth wear. 

But the gates of Heaven open 

Only to the purified. 
Who from anguish unto anguish. 

Follow Jesus Crucified. 

Then, rejoice! thy glory groweth, 
Half a century's conquests shine 

With immortal love and brightness 
Borrowed from the Heart Divine. 



^ Close ^^ f gES. 

I close my eyes, and with the spirit's vision 
Look down the aisles of fifty years agone: — 

Rough stones are piled upon yon grassy surface, 
And busy workmen toil from early dawn. 

The passers-by ask idly: "Wherefore build ye?" 
"To raise a structure unto God on high 

Where man may come and fitly give Him worship, 
Where man may learn to live and learn to die." 

The days pass on, and higher grows the temple. 
While earnest hearts with pure and holy love 

Bring forth their all, as did the early Christians, 
To place it in God's treasure-house above. 

At length the day of toil and care is over, 
The gilded cross is placed upon the spire. 

The bells p.eal forth their Heaven inspired music. 
And heart of man, with joy, beats higher, higher. 

Religious pomp and holy ceremonial 

With sacred unction, gladsome tidings tell, 

That God has left His glorious throne in Heaven. 
Through love descends within St. Paul's to dwell. 

Since, day by day, His ministers devoted 
With power greater than Seraph ever bore, 

Repeat Love's Sacrifice of Immolation 

While prostrate angels with mankind adore. 



118 



-^^^^^^^^>^^^i^^^5fe5^g^ 



I marvel at the history which the Font gives 
Of thousands it has sent forth heirs anew: 

And all the seven sacred channels opened 
Flow on with virtue and with healing too. 

And, so throughout the many generations, 
The holy work has marched with rapid pace: 

Unnumbered souls who now are blessed in Heaven, 
Unnumbered souls on earth, have here found grace. 

I read in hearts of each and all assembled 

A holy joy and gratitude profound, 
The young look forth to blissful years before them, 

The aged retrace God's gifts in myriads found. 

And while great sorrows with past joys were mingled. 
Yet, all, with loud acclaim, praise God today, 

For Fifty Years of grace and benediction 
And million blessings spread upon their way. 

'Tis meet that all, our priests who've borne the burden, 
The aged who placed the first foundation stone. 

Those in their prime, and even lisping children. 
Should sing today — one song of praise alone. 

I look above, behold our former pastor, 
Whose aim until he laid life's burden down. 

Was God's great glory and our soul's salvation, 
And now he wears the victor's laurel crown. 

He saw the blessing to our eyes beclouded 
Which came from God, beneath the cross of fire: 

For when the place of sacrifice lay strewn with ashes, 
Men's hearts returned to God and prayers rose higher. 



119 



Warm words of welcome with our grand Te Deum 
From every heart on every tongue unite. 

The day so gladsome and so rich in blessings, 
Our honored guests have rendered doubly bright. 

We hail His Excellency and fain would thank him 
For honor great on us today conferred: 

To princes of God's House, —befitting greeting 
The heart may feel, but cannot find the word. 

Our own Archbishop and the other prelates 
And all devoted clergy here today, 

With every guest, have added to our graces, 
And crowTied with gold, this Fiftieth holiday. 



The air is full of melody and harmony serene, 

The sun all Nature touching with Heaven's golden sheen: 

While God's sweet smile of blessing is resting on the shrine 

Of Mary the Immaculate, His Mother, yours and mine. 

Each heart would ask the question— "Why such a glorious day?" 

Would that our tongues were golden, the answer meet to say. 

Full fifty years have ended, as time is counted here. 

But they live in golden glory of God's eternal year. 

They tell of faith majestic in the Shepherd and the Sheep, 

Of labors long, and conflicts, Christ's messages to keep. 

They tell of wondrous vision, of loyalty most true, 

Of sacrifices numerous, by priests and people too. 

They tell of persecutions borne for God's Most Holy Name, 

And slighting words once uttered in hopes of earthly fame. 

Those words were scarcely spoken when a vow pierced Heaven's blue. 

Today the golden bugles sound to show that promise true. 

120 



Amid autumnal glory of Mt. Ida's dazzling height 

John Adams laid a corner stone, within the people's sight, 

For a lofty tower of Science, an Observatory grand, 

To view the far-off heavens and look proudly o'er the larxd. 

He spoke, and all were silent to catch his every word 

And they followed him with ardor, until at last they heard: 

"Upon this hill may Science point its emblems to the skies, 

But may the sign of Popery ne'er be allowed to rise." 

O irony of fate! we cry, as from the vale below 

Upon the highest pinnacle we see the Cross to glow. 

A Church unto the honor of Christ's Cross is reared on high, 

And to His Spotless Mother, is another standing high. 

While the very spot where Adams stood with ceremonial grand. 

Is now the home of Fathers who over all the land 

Preach the Cross of Christ made glorious, exult in earthly loss, 

Zealous Fathers of the Passion and of the Holy Cross. 

Should not joy-bells ring, then, gladly, and with golden tongue proclaim 

The fervor of their spirits who glory in that name? 

Who have placed the sacred emblem on Mt. Adams' lofty height. 

And glorified night's darkness with Mary's beacon light? 

Who have cancelled all earth's claimings against her temple fair, 

And beautified her altars with sculptors rich and rare. 

While on the walls are written with artist's skill and grace. 

The story of her life on earth and the beauty of her face. 

They have added all adornment unto her earthly shrine, 

Today they "Consecrate" it unto her Son Divine. 

What blessings He is sending, would our souls could ever dream! 

Down from His throne in Heaven pour they forth in golden stream. 

Earth seems to catch the shimmer and the clouds the brilliant light, 

And the hearts of Mary's clients burn with raptures of delight. 

They chant with love Te Deum, praise their Mother's spotless name. 

And ask one blessing only, Heaven's never-ending fame. 

That when earth's light has faded, they shall spend a glorious day 

'Neath the sunbeams of the Godhead and Mary's gentle ray. 



121 



-^^^§^^^^>^^^i^^^2fej^i^ 



'Twas in the month of roses just fifty years ago 
When springtime beauties Hngered, o'er hills and dales below, 
When Glendale, always lovely, had donned her fairest dress, 
That God Himself descended. His dwelling place to bless. 

How sweet the name — St. Gabriel! of Angel Knight so fair, 
Sent to our Mother Mary that message glad to bear: 
"Hail, full of grace! most blessed art thou among chaste daughters all. 
Thee, God the Son *My Mother' henceforth in love shall call." 

So, when the Faith was planted amid these lovely scenes, 

The missionaries seemed to see Judea's Hills so green 

They built the first small temple and gave their hearts' warm love. 

What fifty years have reaped thro' them, they see from thrones above. 

"St. Gabriel" holds proud record of Faith serenely strong, 
Ne'er chilled has been its fervor, thro' years of trial long. 
While to the ranks of Mother Church the youth speed bravely on 
How many lovely daughters to cloister homes have gone. 

And, then — a privilege so rare, no parallel we find, 

Five sons unto God's altar raised, their names as priests enshrined. 

With holy envy might we look upon St. Gabriel's fame. 

Upon the joy of parents who such a bliss could claim. 

Still other Levites followed, and other homes were blessed 
By giving to God's service their only or their best. 
In every walk of life we find the loyal hearts and true, 
Who all the early pledges, today, with zeal renew. 



122 



The dead are still remembered, the pastors and the flock 

Who built as Christ had shown them upon St. Peter's Rock. 

The Banner of the cross, today, in Golden Glory gleams 

While sacred channels bear to souls, of grace, most precious streams. 

Then glad should be all spirits with the gladness of our King, 
And Golden Bells should call to prayer and Golden Joy-Bells ring. 
For "Fifty Years" have vanished not, but live — Eternal Years 
And Heaven's Alleluias sound— reward of earth's few tears. 



A day of jubilee and song! 
Let every heart the notes prolong: 
For glad should be the young and old 
That Fifty Years for us are told. 

Yes, fifty years are written dowm, 
And many a saint with golden crown 
Exults today, and joins our praise 
That God has given lengthened days. 

Who'll count the millions of the blessed 
The souls who've gained eternal rest, 
The white-robed innocents alone. 
Who bow before God's altar throne! 

The Font Baptismal, — Sorrow's Door, 
All Holy Eucharistic Store, 
The Sacred Unction, — all of these, 
Have been for thousands, golden keys. 

What half a century past has done, 

Will be till time his course has run: 

For shepherds true will guard Christ's sheep 

And harvests rich the laborers reap. 

123 



'^^§^cj^^^:::^^^^^ii^tm^s^^ 



O happy souls! to have first share 
The great Apostles' holy care! 
Their faith, their love, may they impart 
And set aglow our every heart. 

Ring, then, today, the golden bells, 
While every lip the story tells 
Let glad Te Deum fill the air 
And every note re-echo prayer. 

May Heaven send eternal rays 
To light our path thro* future days, 
Till heard celestial courts among, 
Are Allelulias, angel-sung. 



(3 ^tm Olommg, ^tnxt^i ^%itx%, 

I am coming, dearest Sisters, 
With the purest gold today. 

And I bring it from its hiding place 
Of years, far, far away. 

Half a century had I wandered 
Ere I found the precious mines. 

And took the glittering metal. 

Which the brightest stars outshines. 

'Tis your love, our eldest Sisters, 
Vowed full fifty years ago, 

When the God of endless ages 

Made your hearts like His to glow. 



124 



Then, you oped your arms to Innocence, 
That harm might ne'er befall; 

And your ears were strangely quickened 
To hear Want's piteous call. 

Your eyes beheld in everyone 

God's image — all divine: 
While you whispered, "Now, dear Jesus, 

Our life and love are Thine." 

You chose for holy patrons, 

His glorious saints above: 
Our St. Vincent, and the Baptist, 

With Cecelia — Saint of love. 

The missionary Xavier, 

Great Dominick aflame. 
Gave heritage of graces 

Together with each name. 

The years have quickly vanished 
With their sorrows and their cares, 

But your deeds of sweetest Charity 
Are scattered everywhere. 

Five are here to see the setting 

Of the glorious golden sun, 
Marking now the happy waning 

Of this semi-cycle done. 

And some have gone before you — 
Ah, they know the cost and worth 

Of your days of toil and merit 
And the trials of this earth. 



125 



They, with us are now rejoicing 

That your Faith has ne'er grown cold, 

That your Hope has still its springtime, 
And your Love will ne'er be old. 

Eternity will greet you 

As five Virgins fair and wise, 
And the Heavenly anthems praise you 

E'er and e'er, beyond the skies. 



%lnb ntt tl|^ ^ates of ^ejotctng. 

Glad are the notes of rejoicing, 
Earnest the prayers said today, 

Unrecorded the deeds we are voicing. 
Unwritten in earth's boastful way. 

But could our eyes gaze on the pages 

Illumined by angels above, 
We would know that the wisdom of sages 

Compares not with actions of love. 

The poor have been helped by its giving. 
The sick have been soothed in their pain; 

The helpless made hopeful in living 
The homeless made happy again. 

It is fifty long years since that morning 
When self, all life's hopes, pleasures too. 

They forsook for the Master's adorning 
To follow His pathway, life through. 



126 



We name them, Cleophas, Raphael, 

And Winifred, first on the way: 
Are their patrons rejoicing in Heaven? 

Do they join us this blest, happy day? 

Ah, yes, and the souls they have aided, 
Are kneeling before the White Throne. 

The good deeds from our Sisters' minds faded, 
To the records eternal have flown. 

So, we join in the day's jubilation, 
And golden-toned joy bells we ring, 

We thank God for their life's consecration 
And "Te Deum" exultingly sing. 



I read in a vision a story 

Of fifty long years slowly sped 
Of toiling, of praying — no weeping 

For hopes that are laid with the dead. 
I see not on Fame's scroll emblazoned 

Her name in rich letters made bright, 
But the angels of God are incensing 

The place where she's resting tonight. 
I hear not the plaudits of glory 

Nor hosannas from multitudes great. 
But I know that this humblest of Sisters 

Shall enter with joy Heaven's gate. 
I see Heaven's King stoop to raise her, 

When she prostrates before His Great Throne, 
And behold a long white-robed procession 

That claims her as one of its own. 



127 



*%fe^s^^^^^^^^2^^^i^§^ 



I listen to sweet childish voices 

Now chanting her deeds with glad praise. 
While her "Charity's Robe" brightly glowing 

Her Guardian Angel displays. 
Our Mother Immaculate places 

Fifty jewels to circle her brow; 
The years which she gave to the orphan 

The fruit of her labors tell now. 



(Sftftg '^tnvs JVga, ^iSlg '^esnsl 

Fifty years ago, my Jesus, 

Came I, at Thy earnest call. 
Take today, renewed the offering 
Of my youth — my little all. 

Ah, those fifty years! 1 love them. 
Every morn I saw Thy Face, 

Every hour I felt Thy Presence 
Every moment knew Thy grace. 

There were doubts, but soon they vanished 

In the splendor of Thy Light; 
Cares came too, but passed forever 

Knowing Thee made darkness bright. 

E'er to me. Thy yoke was sweetness. 
Nor could earthly joys compare, 

Never was Thy burden heavy. 
With Thee, life was always fair. 



128 



Have I tried? Thou knowest, Jesus, 
Never loved I else but Thee, 

Never counted I the merit, 
Asking but Thy Will to see. 

Now, the fifty years have vanished, 
Short they seem and little, too, 

But I know my God has measured 
What I wished but could not do. 

Take again my offering, Jesus, 

Fifty times my fifty years, 
Would I give unto Thy service. 

Welcoming its sighs and tears. 

Bless, O Lord, the friends who helped me 
Down this half a century way, 

Let us spend fore'er together, 
In Thy Home, Love's holiday. 



"All fair art thou, O Mary! 

No stain was e'er in thee!" 
The whole wide world is singing 

O'er mountain, plain, and sea; 
Her children's hearts are throbbing 

With joy no words can say. 
While golden bells are chiming 

With golden tongues, today. 



129 



There are myriad stars in Heaven, 

Countless sands upon the sea, 
Unnumbered notes of music 

In the world of harmony; 
But what are all earth's beauties 

What the treasures of the deep, 
Compared to loving actions 

Which angelic records keep! 

Fifty years our cherished Sister 

Gave in full to orphan needs, 
* Golden years with richest harvest 

Reaped from sowing God-like seeds. 
How the lonely hearts were lighted 

By her tenderness and care 
Tho' bereft of home and kindred, 

Of her love each felt a share. 

While to fame her name's not given, 

Who shall count the jewels bright 
Which most grateful hands shall carry 

To her throne in Heaven's height. 
Then her Spouse will say: "Martina/' 

When life's labors shall have ceased, 
"Oh, how precious is your burden 

You worked only for My least." 



130 



Half a century's passed with its record 
And we come here with greetings to say, 

That the' victors are crowned with proud laurel 
And poet's brows circled with bay, 

There is nought which this great world can offer 
Would reward you for even one day. 

You answered the Lord's secret bidding 
Bade to home and your dear ones farewell. 

Gave your all for a heritage humble 
With His chosen ones ever to dwell. 

His love filled your heart with its ardor. 
O'er your spirit His Peace sweetly fell. 

His little ones placed in your keeping 
A mother's warm care have e'er known, 

And the seeds of sweet virtue to nurture 
In their tenderest souls you have sown. 

For Christ wished the little ones near him 
And in Heaven they're close to His Throne. 

"What to these you have done, ' He has told us, 

"I take as if offered to Me:" 
And so, year by year, you have given 

Love's sacrifice, wholly and free. 
And He blessed every step you have taken. 

Ever act He will bless graciously. 



131 



Tho' late do I come with my greeting, 
Not less heartfelt you know it to be. 

I would wish that all joy be your portion, 
Your life, hence, a glad jubilee. 

Five decades have passed with their volumes 
Of life's chapters read o'er and o'er, 

And today, you are both blessed and happy 
As you were in the young days of yore. 

Your path was not all strewn with roses, 

Or roses without any thorns: 
For the followers of Christ, like their Master, 

Life's journey, a cross must adorn. 

But, today, there are notes of glad music, 

And with blessing, the poor speak your name. 

Your children rise up in their glory 

'Neath the sheen of their parents* fair fame. 

The angel of God shows the golden 

Which your Christian lives faithfully won. 

They will add to the chain now unbroken. 
Till God shall pronounce the "Well done!" 



132 



#jltrcr SIttWIce* 



Chime the bells sweetly, this glorious June day! 
Scatter its roses o'er life's chequered way. 
Back thro' a fourth of a century go, 
Read what its records so proudly can show. 

Boyhood's glad spring, dearest Father, for you, 
Had only oped, when you bade it adieu! 
Left all the pleasures which worldlings desire, 
Your heart all aflame with a heavenly fire. 

O'er the pathway of Science, with footsteps so fleet. 
Onward you sped, the goal highest to meet. 
Solitude's charms 'round your spirit were thrown, 
Wooed by her silence, you dwelt not alone. 

Not amid tumult bide the holy and meek. 
When hushed is the world, the Saints of God speak. 
Thus, your life's plan by their brightness you formed. 
And by their spirit your soul's pulse was warmed. 

Then, the high dignity, — Priest of God — came. 
Near such nobility, shallow is fame. 
"Another Christ!" e'er and always in view, 
As such, dearest Father, we gladly greet you. 

Years of denial, of zeal, and of prayer. 
Toiling for others, God's glory, your care. 
Crowned were at last by a gift from above, 
A mitre and crosier as tokens of love. 

Tho' thorn-lined the mitre and heavy the staff, 
Tho' the bearer must often the bitter cup quaff: 
Yet, in them, a token of God's love we see, 
For, God wants His chosen ones, heroes to be. 



135 



Then let joy bells gladly their mission proclaim 
And tell to the world that most blessed is your name. 
We greet, — ^yes, a Father, a pastor, and friend, 
But we love more the title which ne'er has an end. 

"A Priest you are ever," and in reverence low 
We bow before honor earth cannot bestow. 
How great be its glory, its riches, its power, 
They are all as short-lived as spring's earliest Hower. 

So, take, then, dear Father, our tribute of praise, 
May this day be a presage of Heaven's bright days. 
May our voices together blend in paeans of love, 
When God to our visions spreads His glory above. 



Silvery notes of joy and gladness 

Borne upon the fresh May air: 
Tell, O gentle, happy zephyr! 

What message dost thou bear? 
Hast thou come from lands all suimy, 

Bearing offerings meet? 
Hast thou come with heartfelt blessings 

Our Father's feast to greet? 
Thro' years full five and twenty 

We hear thee say in glee, 
"I have gathered treasures richest 

For this Silver Jubilee. 
I blew gently o'er God's temple 

In that sacred, solemn hour, 
When thro' consecrated hands He sent 

The Pastor's precious dower, 



136 



The blessed mitre and the crosier, 

Emblems of the Shepherd's care, 
When He crowned that head anointed, 

Filled the heart with courage rare. 
I have hung o'er desolation 

Caused by War's destructive hand, 
And have seen the Shepherd's mercy 

Driving evil from the land. 
When the hearts of men were with'ring 

'Neath the fever's blasting breath. 
He heeded not life's peril, 

In the dread abodes of death. 
The shadow dark had vanished, 

The sky was fair again, 
Hope, almost lost, returned once more 

To fill the souls of men: 
But 'mid scenes of new-born brightness 

'Twas not his lot to stay, 
From the land of his affections 

He must tear himself away. 
An aged Patriarch Sufferer, 

'Neath a heavy cross bent low. 
Begged a Brother's kindly hand to raise 

The crushing weight of woe. 
As in Gethsemani's Garden 

With reverential fear, 
To solace Jesus' agony. 

Angelic hosts drew near. 
Thus our *'Angel of the Passion" 

To our honored Prelate came. 
And proved himself the Shepherd 

And the Friend, in deed, as name. 
Let our voices then, dear Father, 

Mingle with the glad refrain, 

137 



«%^^§^^^>^^i^i^^^fea^§^ 



Let us thank thee, from our heart of hearts, 

And bless thee o'er again 
For thy kindness to our Father, 

Thy loving care of all. 
On thee. Heaven's fullest graces, 

Must forever, ever fall. 
Had the North such fruits and flowers 

As thine own sweet Southern clime. 
An off'ring meet we'd make thee 

For this gladsome Jubilee time: 
But we launched our little vessel. 

Dropped our net beneath the tide, 
And affection's grateful tributes 

In the meshes here abide. 
Before God's holy altar. 

And at our Mother's shrine. 
We'll place for thee our treasures 

And sweetest chaplets twine. 
And while joy-bells ringing gladly 

Chime out upon the air, 
From St. Joseph's and St. Vincent's 

Rise the incense sweet of prayer. 



^imnh ^iattt ^iit^s of ®Iabn^0B? 

Why sound sweet notes of gladness. 
Why wreathed are all in smiles? 

Is it June with blooming roses 
Which thus our heart beguiles? 

Ah, no! sweet June is happy. 

Yes, blessed in many a way; 
But there's a brighter radiance 

Illumining this day. 



138 



Back just one-fourth a century, 
Our glance we gladly turn, 

And the vision fancy offers 

Makes our hearts to glow and bum. 

We see the highest graces 
Poured from the fount above, 

And, hovering o'er you, Father, 
Is the Celestial Dove. 

He bears the priestly office, 
You kneel in lowly prayer. 

Become the Lord's anointed, 
Assume the shepherd's care. 

You go forth on your mission 
Deeming all things else as loss. 

Which image not the Saviour 
And His redeeming cross. 

The years have rolled by swiftly,— 
Two decades and a half — 

Tho' oft it's been your portion 
Life's bitter draught to quaff. 

Your flock has been well tended, 
You count no wasted years: 

The sheep-fold you've well guarded 
Faithful thro' joy or tears. 

And, so, today, we're happy, 
And happy thrice are you: 

The record of your priesthood — 
How consoling 'tis to view! 

Let us thank God for the favors 

Showered lavishly on you. 
May you voice a grand Te Deum, 

The endless ages through. 

139 



Pfl|0 ®0ucl|ch tilt QII|0rh of ^ustt? 

Who touched the chord of music 

Which vibrates in every heart? 
List! the harmony celestial, 

Angels in it, must have part. 
Hear the sad, but tender minor, 

Now^ the grand majestic strain, 
Hark! the soul is strained to centre, 

Touched by the sad refrain. 

I will tell you like a seer 

Of the ages long ago. 
What the music of my fancy 

Would to each spirit show. 
The sun, today, shines glorious. 

And 'tis meet that thus its sheen 
Lends a brightness to the picture, 

Throws a halo 'round the scene. 

We are counting backwards, Father, 

Counting backwards all for you. 
And the years of resurrection 

Are all glorious to view. 
As artists, we decipher 

A picture fair indeed: 
As poets, we are captured 

By the rhythm of each deed. 

Musicians, mark we melody 

Which ne'er from earth could rise: 
As architects, examine 

Buildings reaching to the skies. 
You, the doer of these actions 

Which elicit all our praise, 
The hero of this hour. 

In your honor, voices raise. 

140 



*^^^£§^^^D^^^^if^^3feJ^ 



Ah, look around, about you, 

Watch the glance of every eye, 
It is easy for affection 

The key-note to descry. 
Today, you turn the mile-stone 

Twenty-fifth in your career, 
And no spot in all your journey, 

Need draw from you a tear. 

A triumphal march, we call it. 

And its echo in our soul 
Will live, while life is ours. 

And to years eternal roll. 
It gladdens each one's spirit. 

To revive the beauteous scene, 
When you bowed your shoulders to the cross. 

Soldier of noble mien. 

The burden laid upon you, 

In that hour of holy awe. 
You have borne with giant courage, 

Nor sought e'er to withdraw. 
And, today it looms up grandly. 

As a mount of holy deeds. 
And 'twixt the earth and heaven. 

As a mediator pleads. 

We, your children, gather 'round you, 

While Heaven and earth rejoice. 
And myriad benedictions 

Are entoned by every voice. 
At your feet we lay our tribute, 

Of gratitude and love, 
At the throne in high Empyrean 

Invoke the All-Holy Dove. 



We ask the Triune Godhead 

To send forth the decree 
That multitudinous graces 

Mark your Silver Jubilee. 
And, when, as on life's journey. 

Lowering clouds on high, we see. 
With wings of love, will memory 

To this day of gladness flee. 
'Twill be our bourne of safety. 

It will be our port of rest, 
Till we spend with you, dear Father, 

The Jubilee of the Blest. 



These words of sacred import 

Fall upon our list'ning ears, 
As down the aisles of time we turn, 

View five and twenty years. 
A Priest! lo! Angels bow before you 

Whom their God on high obeys, 
And they count their office noble, 

To guard your earthly ways. 
For they see your power daily. 

Bring from highest courts above 
The Lord to dwell among us 

Victim of insatiate love. 
If Angels hosts surround you 

In ravished bliss, today, 
What should your children offer 

And how their love portray? 



142 



A quarter of a century 

For our weal has all been spent. 
Oft-times the cup was bitter 

Yet, your will was e'er content. 
Like the Master "with desire" 

Was your earnest soul aflame, 
That the flock entrusted to you 

From all evil you might claim. 
Where'er we look about us. 

Proofs unnumbered do we find, 
That countless cares and labors 

Filled your heart and soul and mind. 
Our church and school are monuments 

Pointing to the heavens above, 
Built to lead your children thither, 

O'er the paths of truth and love. 
The earnest find a model 

In your life, our Father, dear. 
And the erring, if they suffer, 

Know from you, they've nought to fear. 
For, you lead men by your kindness 

To Him who died for all. 
And they leave the beaten pathway, 

Seek, the narrow, at His call. 
So, today, we hasten gladly, 

Called by Silver Jubilee bell. 
To bear to you our off'rings 

Our words of thanks to tell. 
We beg the Almighty Father 

Your span of life to spread 
Till Golden Sacerdotal Years 

Have crowned your priestly head. 
Then, may Heaven's portals open 

And your name therein be read. 

143 



We meet, today, dear Father, 

To call up days of yore: 
We bid you for a time retrace 
Years five and twenty o'er. 
We lead you back in spirit 

To a scene of grandeur true 
The foremost figure standing, 

Is a youth, dear Father, you. 
You kneel with reverent forehead: 

Descending from on high 
We view the Holy Paraclete 

Beneath the azure sky. 
He hovers o'er you. Father, 

He breathes into your soul. 
Your name with sacred oath is placed 

On sacerdotal roll. 
You go forth armed with courage 

Which comes e'er from the cross. 
"Another Christ" you're girded 
To redeem the world from loss. 
You battle with the dangers 

Which surround your children all. 
You hearken to no mandate 
But your duty's holy call. 
You soothe the sick and weary. 
Poor souls in deep distress — 
That you follow well your Master, 

E'en envy must confess. 
Who asks then, why we're happy 

On this eventful day? 
*Tis our Father's Silver Jubilee, 
No more we need to say. 

144 



We bless you for your care of us, 

Your tender love so true, 
For the Faith which you have taught us, 

Ever ancient ever new. 
We beg the God of Heaven 

And Mary, stainless, too. 
To guard your every footstep, 

Till life's pilgrimage is through. 
And we pray this little token 

Which we offer with our love. 
May grow into such jewels 

Found only up above. 

'Tis a season, dear Father, of gladness 

That Christmas tide brings unto men: 
But your children have heard the sweet chiming 

Of Jubilee Bells, now and then. 
And they've questioned the cause of their ringing 

And have found that the joy is for you. 
That Christ Crucified, you've been serving. 

Years twenty and five, firm and true. 
So, we've come with our greetings, dear Father, 

And the wealth of our pleadings in prayer, 
Your children have nought else to offer 

In thanks for your zeal and your care. 
But we'll ask of the dear Infant Saviour, 

Who for love of us all here was born. 
That He'll bring you from Heaven rich graces, 

To gladden your soul Christmas morn. 
And we'll tell Him how much it would please us. 

Could we offer you gifts rich and rare, 
That our prayers may add still to your brightness, 

When His glory in Heaven you'll share. 

145 



Jlttly ^tte^rg ^ote il]e fog '§tlis QII|tme. 

With silvery notes the joy bells chime, 

And songs of praise we sing, 
While off'rings from our grateful hearts 

With Nature's gifts we bring. 
The air with roses' rich perfume 

And carolling of birds, 
Tells to our spirits' listening ear, 

God's message without words. 

Our Father's Feast! See Heaven's smile 

Pierce thro' the vaulted dome! 
To crown his joy and bless the friends 

Who gather 'round his home. 
Years twenty-five, a Priest of God! 

A Prince! a Judge of souls! 
The Anointed of the Paraclete 

While age on ages rolls! 

To myriad souls those hands have oped 

The seal of Heaven's door: 
Those hands have held the Lord of Hosts 

Whom angel choirs adore. 
That voice has carried to our souls 

The blessings of Christ's birth: 
That voice has called from Heaven high, 

The Godhead, down to earth. 

O happy Priest! "Another Christ!" 

With zeal for souls you burn — 
The poor, the sick, the troubled hearts, 

To you for solace turn. 
And, we, the children of your flock, 

A Father's love v/ell know: 
We ask, today, that Heaven send 

Rich greetings, here below. 

146 



I 



Our joy is great that in this year — 

The silver of your days 
Our dearest Lord first came to us 

To be our Guest always. 
And He will give you what we ask 

Who loves the children small, 
A wealth of grace — God's precious gifts 

Like manna pure to fall. 

That day by day, your life may be 

A song of praise and prayer, 
Till Heaven's gate shall open wide 

And you shall enter there. 
But, first, we'd spend your Golden Feast 

Within God's temple grand. 
Of zeal thro' all these arduous years 

A monument to stand. 

The corner-stone has just been laid 

And soon the walls will rise, 
Ere long the spire and gleaming cross 

Will point to smiling skies. 
Beyond the clouds the Saints in bliss 

With love are looking down; 
They see in Heaven your reward, 

Your throne and jewelled crown. 

They tell us all — ^your children here, 

Our voice in prayer to raise, 
From hearts so full of happiness 

To pour our grateful lays. 
Then sing, sweet birds, in silv'ry notes! 

And chime, ye joy bells, long! 
Our Father's friends in Heaven's courts 

Unite with us in song. 

147 



'Round about you, here, today, 
Grateful hearts are gathered. 
Grateful for your care, displayed 
Every moment of the day, 
Grateful for unceasing toil. 
From your duty no recoil; 
With whole hearts we thank you. 

Youth has not the garnered years, 
Wisdom learned by bitter tears, 
Yet, it reads full-oft aright. 
Keen is intuition's sight. 
And it knows who loves the best. 
He who takes no earthly rest — 
Such, your life, dear Father. 

Then, from children's lips receive, 
What your people all believe, 
You're a gift from God above. 
Sent in mercy and in love, 
You're our guide and strength for aye 
On the upward. Heavenward way: — 
May we ever follow. 

Take our offering, would 'twere more, 
Could we richest mines explore. 
Gladly would we gather wealth 
Prayerfully we'd gain you health. 
And we'd keep you thro' long years. 
Free from toil and care and fears, 
Filled with every blessing. 



148 



Assembled, today, where so many, dear Father, 

Have spoken their greetings in words full of Love, 
We call them in spirit to join our Te Deum, 

For blessings untold coming down from above. 
The years roll around bearing joys and deep sorrows: 

Life always is chequered, wherever the land: 
Yet, lightly the strokes of adversity touch us. 

For ever near by is a Fatherly hand. 
As children, —what know we but interest tender? 

In grief, deepest sympathy, kindness divine, 
In joy a partaker of every pleasure; 

Happy children are we to be reckoned as thine. 
Then gladly today, and with gratitude deepest, 

Thanks we pour forth at the foot of God's throne, 
For ourselves and for those who have entered life's struggle, 

Strengthened by counsels not in words taught alone. 
In childhood, in youth, in life's prime we find thee 

An example to follow, a guide for our ways. 
May our footsteps ne'er stray from the path thou hast trodden. 

Then assured shall we be of a crown for our days. 
Golden years do we pray to thy life-time be added. 

Harvest rich of thy flock thy great pleasure to see. 
And together may all in the glorious hereafter 

Spend 'neath God's own bright sunshine — a grand Jubilee. 



Here tonight with pride and pleasure 
All are gathered, young and old; 

'Round about us, lavish emblems 
Of your fatherly love untold. 

Who can tell the toil and courage 
Which these trophies must portray? 

149 



None can count the care and worry 

Waiting still the eternal day. 
Lo! here stands our noble school-house 

Wide proclaiming to the world 
That the Church of God has heroes 

Burning till Faith's flag's unfurled. 
Who shall say that Popes and prelates. 

Catholic priests and laymen, too. 
Laugh at learning, limit reason? 

Chide the accusation, you. 
You, ye people, you, ye children. 

Who, on every side broadcast. 
See the work o'er which the spirit 

Of your Father's zeal has passed. 
Years may gather thick around us 

And our youthful locks turn gray: 
Yet, dear Father, green and happy 

Still will be this bright June day. 
As I speak, so think all others. 

From the lisping babe whose word 
Unformed still, means grateful loving 

Thus all hearts, their thoughts unheard. 
Prayers surround thee like a garment, 

Prayers of a stainless and of those 
Who for past transgressions grieving, 

Sin's drear empire soon o'erthrows. 
Take, dear Father, all our greetings. 

None deserve them more than thou. 
To our Faith, to what thou'st taught us, 

True we'll be, tonight we vow. 
When thy hands anointed, holy, 

Towards God's Throne uplifted are. 
Ask that they be filled with blessings 

For thy children, near and far. 

150 



-^l^^^^^>^^^^^^^2fe^g^^ 



txt nxt ^tl^crg ^outtbs of (Slabttess, 

There are silvery sounds of gladness, 

Heart-beats full of joy betimes, 
Prayers of love and deep thanksgiving 

Mingle with exulting chimes. 

On the Mesa all are telling 

Of the years so sv/iftly sped — 
Five and twenty years full laden, 

Grace for living, peace for dead. 

They foresaw with eye prophetic 

Felt with heart divinely warm 
That the barren waste, now fertile, 

Would withstand the heat and storm. 

Tho' the ground was parched and arid, 
They could see clear fountains flow, 

In Baptismal Waters laving 
Man restored to grace below. 

Watched the faint of heart and spirit 
% Weak of soul at Banquet true. 
Nourished by His Blood— the Saviour's, 
By His Flesh, they giants grew. 

Those who sowed the seed so precious 

Some rejoice, on earth today, 
Others smile from thrones of glory 

On this pageant's bright array. 

Knew the tiny seed would perish 

Giving life to Faith's great tree. 
That St. Patrick's flock increasing 

Would outnumber sands of sea. 



151 



And they heard the erring's whisper 

Of repentance for his sin, 
Saw the Dove of Peace descending, 

DwelHng make his soul within. 

Forth they went the guides and toilers 
What they wrought today, we write 

Miracles of love and labor, 

Deeds unknown to mortal sight. 

But the records bright in Heaven 
(Could our eyes the vision know) 

Of St. Patrick's on the Mesa 

Dazzling are with Truth's rich glow. 

Then, exult, the young and aged. 
Priests and people. Spouses, too, 

Of the Lamb whose word remaineth, 
"Ever ancient, ever new." 



There is joyousness of spirit as we trace the vanished years, 
And the melody of music mingles with our griefless tears; 
Clear silver notes of triumph ring far out upon the air, 
With the glorious autumn sunshine spreading radiance everywhere. 
St. Joseph's people gather in thankful prayer and praise, 
For all God's blessings lavished and for His lengthened days. 
Years five and twenty ended, they count the early cost. 
The trials, sacrifices, to hold the Faith ne'er lost. 



152 



They see the fruitage garnered, the harvest ripe and great, 

The laborers all ready, the Master's word await; 

He smiles in benediction and sends unmeasured grace. 

To fill each soul with blessing and light with love each face. 

Back through the years we wander and gaze upon the spot 

Where amid beginnings humble, God's work of love was wrought; 

We see the small foundation grown to greatness widely spread. 

And count as blessed the toilers — the living and the dead. 

The pastors and the people who through the burdened years 

Looked upward and worked onward, nor harbored petty fears. 

Today, St. Joseph's spire with its cross of gold points high, 

The church is filled with worshipers whose prayers pierce thro' the sky. 

The school, the joy of pastor, and the people's hope and pride, 

Shows to the world that Learning's Light with Faith must e'er abide, 

Her avenues lead truthfully to Wisdom's broad domain. 

Of every branch of knowledge, she forms an endless chain. 

At founts of clearest water she bids the young to drink, 

Nor lets their footsteps wander near error's dizzy brink. 

St. Joseph's congregation may praise God's Holy Name, 

And bum with honest pleasure at its share of earthly fame. 

In spheres of highest honor we hear its names resound. 

While the chosen sons and daughters Christ's "better path" have found. 

The streams of grace keeps flowing, and God's own Sacred Heart 

Bums with His love unquenchable. His blessings to impart; 

The future years will reap in full the sowings of the past, 

Until instead of silvery gleam, a golden glow will cast. 

May pastors, people, children, rejoice on earth that day. 

Made gloriously happy by Heaven's resplendent ray. 

Amid today's hozannas may no voice in silence rest 

But observe with royal pleasure fair gratitude's behest. 

May songs of joy continue, and may the Jubilee Bell 

The gladness of all spirits with Heavenly praises tell. 



153 



Far above our "Smoky City" is a spire pointing high, 

When Aurora's magic fingers paint with gold the eastern sky, 

Turn your earnest gaze upon it; read its history, strange to tell, 

Make the lesson which it teaches in your soul fore'er to dwell. 

This Mt. Adams was Mt. Ida, till Science claimed the height 

For a tower astronomical, from which to pour her light. 

Then was asked John Quincy Adams, he of presidential fame. 

To place with pomp the "comer stone" and give the hill his name. 

The time was Indian Summer of November, '43, 

And Autumn's tints were glorious, o'er hill and vale to see. 

The winding river just below, smiled back the merriest beams 

And mirrored all the landscape with strange, fantastic gleams. 

For the brave old "Cincinnati" 'twas a gladsome, gala day. 

As out from all the city poured they forth in proud array. 

The ceremony over, the Adams took his stand 

To address the gathered multitude and laud our Freedom's land. 

Columbia's praise was welcome to every heart and ear 

And so the notes of Liberty re-echoed with a cheer:— 

But, suddenly, as blossoms nipped by untimely frost, 

All patriotic feelings were from noblest bosoms tossed. 

A change came o'er the faces of true men assembled there, 

As alas! one chilling sentence struck the clear November air. 

"May this hill be free to Science, every emblem find a home, 

But may the Cross be raised aloft on neither tower nor dome." 

He spoke, — his words were registered, — a vow recorded, too, 

By our late lamented Patriarch, to keep that hill in view. 

To crown its lofty summit with a shrine to Mary's name. 

And make the hill all-glorious with true Religion's fame. 



154 



Did he do it? The Immaculata whispers Heaven smiled upon his 

vow, 
Our stainless Mother's temple shortly claimed the mountain's brow. 
Like a fortress grand, it stands there, staying God's avenging blow. 
While the wicked city recks not, its impending fate below. 
The monastery yonder, marks the place where Science bore. 
Her votaries to pierce the clouds and nameless worlds explore. 
To listen to the music of the far off rolling spheres, 
Heard only by the chosen few with consecrated ears: 
Now, Rehgion's sons are piercing, day and night the heaven's blue. 
As with the soul's pure vision, celestial things they view. 
They join angelic choirs in songs of praise above. 
And prostrate beg for mercy before the throne of Love. 
Like knights of old to Chivalry by vow and honor bound, 
Their arms are ever ready, for Duty's bugle sound. 
Today, the tinkling cymbal with the jubilee of bells. 
The Cross of Christ made glorious, in silv'ry music tells. 
A quarter of a century, the triumphant sign on high 
Has crowned a second fortress reaching upward to the sky. 
It speaks, today, as anciently to Constantine it spoke. 
And in that pagan spirit, a love of Christ awoke. 
It bids us raise our Labarum and conquer in the cross, 
To count all earthly triumphs, even as a gainful loss. 
It stands above our city, purest gold against the blue. 
From dawn till shade a beacon, nor ever hid from view. 
All hearts should, then, exulting praise the God of love and light, 
And beg that we His people keep His temples ever bright. 
Bright in their earthly splendor, brighter still in virtue's glow. 
That thus our earthly dwelling may seem a Heaven below. 
And this day of glad rejoicing will a pleasing foretaste be 
Of our recompense in Heaven, a Christian jubilee. 



15S 



Today is filled with gladness, 'tis jubilant with song, 
Heaven's arches high are ringing with alleluias loud and long. 
The choirs nine in legions bow before the Great White Throne 
Of the God-Man whom they worship, the Son Eternal whom they 

own 
As their leader and their ruler, since that day in ages past, 
When was heard the din of battle, when sin's dreadful darkness cast, 
Its shadows deep o'er intellects resplendent as the sun. 
And highest thrones were vacant and evil's reign begun. 
Confirmed in grace, these Spirits seek God's favorite being man 
To fill the seats of majesty, complete the Father's plan. 
They joy, today, in greeting myriad victors laurel-crowned; 
Thro' the Heavenly Jerusalem peans glorious resound. 
And, whilst our Guardian Angels are filled with joy and love, 
We tune our earthly voices, blend our hymns with those above. 
We all are guardian spirits, St. Vincent's Daughters true, 
As the Angels work in Heaven, we wish on earth to do. 
Hie infants unregenerate in baptismal pools we lave 
Each phase of life we cherish, from the cradle to the grave. 
As mothers watch we carefully the opening tender years, 
The seeds of promise irrigate full oft with bitter tears. 
The dawn of reason guarded, a victory foreshows; 
Faith's army e'er triumphant, Satan's haughty reign o'erthrows. 
The motherless we nurture and erring souls reclaim; 
Christs's sick and sorrowing members we serve in His sweet name. 
We train the infant learners to lisp the name of God, ^'' ' 
The older ones, His law to love and walk the path He trod. 
The dying sinner teach we that mercy still remains,' ' 
That Heaven was bought for Him by Christ in agonizing pains, 
The happy and the joyous, the innocent and free, 
We invite to join the chorus of a prayerful melody. 



156 



^^^^^^^D^^^^^^^Sfea^ 



And so, 'tis meet, when Angels reverberating strains 

Swell thro' the eternal mansions, where joy exultant reigns. 

That this outer court, tho* humble, should know the blissful spell 

And St. Joseph's Mount re-echo the chimes of Jubilee Bell. 

Crowned with lustra live, our Mother, we greet in silvery tones, 

While the Angels smile upon us from their bright empyreal thrones. 

Was it accidental, think you, that years twenty-five ago 

She left her mother's hearth to seek our old home down below? 

Did not guardian spirits lead her, where her life-work lay concealed? 

Had the Future's curtain risen what a fate would be revealed! 

But the early years were reaping a rich and plenteous yield, 

And stores of garnered wisdom were gathered from Life's field. 

A charity nigh boundless sprung up within her heart 

United to the courage from stern Duty ne'er to part. 

And prayer its unction spreading o'er each fibre of her soul. 

Prepared her for all conflicts which the Future might unroll. 

And trials came, and sorrows, and burdens, not a few; 

But they found her girt and ready, — a leader strong and true. 

We might speak of noble daring, of humility profound. 

Of a laudable ambition, of a judgment deep and sound; 

But, dear Mother, all your children know your work of heart and brain 

And your Angel's writ the record which forever shall remain. 

The sick have felt your tenderness, the erring, how divine 

Forgiveness is in mortals, like to Christ the All-Benign. 

Material growth has added its weight of anxious care; 

But we beg the Almighty Father heavier burdens still, to spare. 

That He send a silvery lustre over all your coming years, 

That the golden glow of Heaven may banish doubt and fears. 

That this day of jubilation may the faintest presage be. 

Of your Feast of Love, in Heaven,— your Eternal Jubilee. 



157 



-^fe^§^^^>^^^^^^^^^^i^ 



^ack ®t}r0* "^mtsi of ©otl anh '^abor. 

Back thro* years of toil and labor. 

Thought with lightsome footsteps speeds; 

Few in number was our Order, 
Busy scatt'ring wondrous seeds. 

Seeds of love for every mortal. 

Kindly deeds to one and all: 
Records of the daily actions 

None but angels can recall. 

First-born daughter of that family. 

Sister Vincent, let us greet. 
On this Feast to all so cherished 

With congratulations meet. 

You were chosen, happy Sister, 

First to swell that little band: 
It has grown and God has blessed it. 

Showered grace with generous hand. 

Take these little offerings, Sister, 

Tho' of richness they are shorn: 
Let our Mother's hand present them, 

To her first, her eldest born. 

Let this day portray a brighter 

In the future, when above. 
Safe with God and with St. Vincent, 

We shall spend our Feast of Love. 



158 



-^^cS^^^D-^^^i^^^^^J^^ 



Oh the earth in full of gladness 

In this Easter-tide we love, 
And the trees are sending forth their leaves, 

While Heaven smiles above. 
Alleluia! writes the sunbeam, 

Alleluia! sings each bird; 
And the heart of man is beating 

With love's music softly stirred. 

He is risen! Yes, the Saviour 

Walks again upon the earth. 
And His followers journey after 

With the zeal His death gave birth. 
They shall count no trial heavy, 

Since Christ has borne the cross; 
But will reckon earthly greatness 

Heaven's never-ending loss. 

In our own dear, happy, circle. 

Hear full notes of gladness sung. 
And ask why joy is written 

On all faces, old and young. 
The story soon is whispered: — 

** *Tis the Silver Jubilee 
Of our little Novice Mistress, 

Daughter true of Charity." 

Twenty years and five have vanished 

From our dark material eyes; 
But, who'll count their store of graces 

Waiting her, beyond the skies? 



159 



First, her girlhood, — glad she gave it 
To the Heart which said, **Be Mine,' 

And He led her footsteps gently 
Into Charity's sweet shrine. 



Then, her earnest, deep endeavor 

To do always what was best: 
For, she said "God knoweth all things 

And to Him I leave the rest. 
My will to Him I offer, 

My every act and thought, 
And I ask that all my efforts 

Into blessed deeds be wrought." 

Dearest Sister, God is smiling 

On this Silver Feast, today, 
And your Sisters all are eager 

Love's greetings warm to say. 
The aged "God Speed" are crying 

Your early friends, "God Bless!" 
While the young, your novice-children 

Give their souls' sincere caress. 

May the bright and sparkling sunbeams 

Of this happy April day, 
Gild your future with their radiance 

As you journey on life's way. 
May your silver years grow warmer 

With Religion's richest hue. 
Till golden days shall crown you 

When Eternity's in view. 



160 



-%fe^cS^^^^^^^i^0^Sfe^i^ 



There's a silvery note in our voices, 
And a golden glow in our hearts, 

With a glimpse of Heaven's beauty 
In our little vv^orld apart. 

We are counting the years, dear Sister, 

Spent for the Master's love: 
Five and twenty we find are freighted 

With stores for the realms above. 

"They shall shine like the stars of Heaven," 
Spoke our Saviour, long ago, 

"Who others instruct to justice," 
In this sinful world below. 

You have taken the young, dear Sister, 
Taught the childish lips and soul 

To give to God their first lispings 
Ere the world gain its sad control. 

Day by day have you brought them nearer 

Unto Jesus' Heart divine, 
By helping each passing moment. 

Virtue's fairest wreath to twine. 

And so there is need of rejoicing 

On this our Mother's day. 
When our hearts leap forth in gladness 

Immaculate! to say. 

To be called to her Son's ovm household 

On this fairest of all days. 
Is a boon, my dearest Sister, 

To merit endless praise. 



161 



You prize much the gift that was offered, 
Your heart you have kept still young, 

And 'mid sorrows and days of trial, 
Love's jubilee you've sung. 

And, now, when the years are fast going, 

And Eternity's drawing nigh. 
You will add to the treasures you've garnered 

As the hours roll swiftly by. 

And your hands will never be empty 
Should the Master e'en quickly call: 

For your life — it is wholly given. 
Your heart, — ^your works, — ^your all. 



I bring you a message love-laden, 

From a region where love alone dwells, 

From friends whose earth-voices are silent, 
Whose greetings my little verse tells. 

They are smiling today on this feasting, 
For they count not your twenty-five years 

By lapses of time, but by heart-throbs 

Of your love and your hope and your fears. 

The worth of your sacrifice golden, 

When from home and home's loved ones you sped, 
They have learned in the Master's own mansion 

And they see your bright crown overhead. 

They whisper how blest is the calling 

To care for Christ's little ones here. 
To strengthen the spirits grief-burdened 

To give them of solace and cheer. 

162 



•*^^^^^^>^^^5«^^^£5^g^ 



They say that far brighter than star-sun 

For years the eternal you'll shine, 
Since to justice you've others instructed. 

Restoring Christ's image divine. 

And your melodies which here have gladdened 
The hearts of the old and the young, 

Aw^ait you in regions celestial 
Heaven's glorious choirs among. 

With this message from friends v^ho are with us 
Tho' "our eyes are still held" them to view, 

I join all my heart's warmest greetings 
Bring love's sweetest blossoms to you. 

How I pray that the silvery shining 

Of this happy day warmer grow, 
Till its sheen be the richest of golden. 

O'er your fiftieth feast day to glow. 



A lull fell on my spirit 

As I closed my eyes to dream 
Of decades four just vanishing 

With wondrous golden gleam; 
I saw in far-off hours, 

Life's balm.y days of spring, 
A youth, whose forehead pictured 

The greatness years would bring. 
To the dear old Blue Grass region. 

The land of saints and men. 



From Ohio the all-beautiful, 

I saw him turning then. 
To that ancient seat of learning, 

To Bardstown's sacred hall. 
With other earnest Levites 

To answer Heaven's call. 
And there in sweet seclusion 

His soul and mind were fed; 
The world of aimless vanity 

He looked upon as dead. 
When higher range of knowledge 

He sought with yearning true, 
To Mount St. Mary's of the West 

His eager footsteps drew. 
Her portals great closed 'round him. 

She marked him as her own. 
In future years returning 

The harvest she had sown. 
Anon, in Rome Imperial 

God's earthly seat of power. 
He lived with martyrs of the past. 

Their blood the Church's dower. 
He walked with every nation 

With sage and saint abreast. 
The learned of every soil and clime 

He found his daily guest. 
The wealth of all the ages 

Outspread in grand array 
Became his soul's possession. 

Lived with him day by day. 
In Pio Nono's blessing. 

Beneath St. Peter's Dome, 
He felt the Pontiff's power 

Knew all the world as home. 

164 



Then when his Alma Mater 

Called to him o'er the sea, 
He came with quickened footstep 

To guard her jealously. 
The Sacred Unction gave him 

Giant *a might of heart and brain, 
And he yearned to see Apostles 

As saintly rulers reign. 
Next to his love of holiness 

He burned to see the light 
Of Knowledge shine pre-eminent 

Destroying error's night. 
The years rolled on till sorrow 

Came to that Mountain home 
When Levites and Anointed 

Were forced afar to roam. 
Did he sit in idle leisure ? 

There are those who gladly tell 
How Mother Seton's Daughters 

Unto his keeping fell. 
'Mid years of varied labor 

Of heart and hand and brain. 
And apostolic duties, 

He sought religion's gain. 
Once more his Alma Mater 

Her loving arms oped wide. 
When the loyal and true-hearted 

Bounded quickly to her side. 
Then, as her foremost champion 

He guards her spotless name, 
Lest any breath of evil 

Obscure her brilliant fame. 
And lo! a century's quarter 

In silvery chimes is told, 

165 



*^^fe§^^^>^^^i^^^^j^i^ 



Oh, the wealth of holy prayer and deeds 

The years departed hold! 
The lambs were well attended 

Now the Master's love would keep 
Such care and earnest vigils 

For His elect — the sheep. 
God sends the staff of office 

With mitre crowns his brow, 
The "Power of the Keys ' proclaims 

His heritage from now. 
Then like another Thomas, 

In early Scripture days, 
He leaves his land, his kindred. 

And seeks in distant ways 
To spread his burning knowledge 

Of the Incarnate God, 
And banish every evil 

With wisdom's chastening rod. 
His lips have touched the fire 

Which Seraphs breathe and know. 
His pen like the Aquinas; 

With brilliant thoughts aglow, 
Writes but of Christ the Healer 

His Priesthood, Church and Throne. 
The breathings of the Paraclete 

Are in each pulse and tone. 
And so the years are passing 

Unto the Golden Days, 
While grateful hearts are praying 

For lengthened earthly ways. 
They know the eternal dawning 

Will bring the royal crown 
When, as confessor triumphant. 

He lays life's burden down. 

166 



JV ^vunh ^l|0ulh Olall en festal ^ags. 

A friend should call on festal days 

With off 'rings meet for friend; 
But for a Sister's silver day, 

All beauteous things should blend. 

I'd bring you flowers fresh and fair. 

And thus delight your eye, 
Into your ear the sweetest strains 

I'd pour, as time goes by. 

Your friends I'd have from far and near. 

Each face, a happy smile, 
No saddening fear should touch your heart, 

Nor anxious care beguile. 

I'd call from out the world beyond 

Your nearest and most dear. 
To whisper joys awaiting you, 

Life's journey ended here. 

I'd bring to you one dear to me. 

To say in accents soft, 
Her words of sweetest gratitude, 

For kindly deeds so oft. 

A measure rich, a measure full 

Of God's choice gifts, today 
Would be my offering, Sister mine. 

If I could have my way. 

God's way we know is better far, 

And so with Him I place, 
My prayer that He will give to you 

A treasure rich of grace. 



167 



^^P^U ^itm, ®00h nnb ^mti^nl ^txbuntr 

"Well done, good and faithful servant!" 

From the Master's lips we hear, 
In His low, sweet tones of greeting 

For your Silver Jubilee year. 

All these years full five and twenty 
For His suffering poor you've toiled, 

Summer's heat, or winter's rigors, 
E'en in thought you ne'er recoiled. 

Well you studied His blessed pathway 

As He walked this earth below, 
Learned His tones of love and kindness 

For the needy, years ago. 

Like the harmony of music, 

Peaceful spell your influence cast: 

To the realms of endless glory 

On love's wings your deeds have passed. 

For the charity which makes us 

Sacrifice ourselves fore'er, 
Rises o'er the stars of Heaven 

Or life's deepest depths will dare. 

There's no fear when God is nigh us. 

Naught is hard, His hand to aid, 
And life's journey never dreary 

Following the path He made. 

Go on bravely, dearest Sister, 
Earth's few days are waning fast. 

Bliss transcendent there awaits you. 
Finite portals safely passed. 



168 



'Tis a day of rejoicing, dear Sister, 

A day full of gladness and love; 
Radiant hearts and bright faces are glowing 

Reflecting God's smile from above. 

Years live and twenty! their meaning 

Only His records can show: 
Neither tongue nor the pen of the earthly 

Full light on such history can throw. 

To your youth this great world was most lovely 
Nor have later years made it less bright ; 

Yet you sacrificed all for His needy 
To lead them o'er pathways aright. 

You have given of food to the hungry, 
Sweetly counselled the erring and weak, 

Taught the lonely ones, broken with sorrow, 
Jesus' Heart for true comfort to seek. 

Thousand little ones, e'en in their lisping. 

Have learned Heaven's truths from your tongue, 

While the praises of Jesus and Mary 
By their sweet baby voices were sung. 

Every note you have touched of the organ. 
Every harp-string whose soul you awoke, 

Each musical score you have written. 
Religion's deep feeling — all spoke. 

And so it is meet, dearest Sister, 

Our voices should ring forth in praise. 

Our silvery anthems be joyous, 

Warm love notes be heard thro' our lays. 



169 



When time with its works and its merit 

Has passed to Eternity's shore, 
A Daughter of Charity's portion 

Shall be your reward, evermore. 

Then, heard far above the grand paeans 

Which transports celestial arouse, 
Will be the soul's sweetest of welcome: 

"Come My Daughter, My Sister, My Spouse!' 



®6i^ntg^ft&^ 'pinks ai ^il^tr nvt ^Sformtng. 

Twenty-five links of silver are forming 

A chain which you offer today, 
And the Master's rich tones we are hearing 

As He bids you "Keep heart on the way!" 

"My daughter, My Spouse," He is saying, 

"Your life is all given to Me 
And the links are more precious you're forging 

Than gems of rich mines or of sea. 

"Your words with sweet kindliness ringing 
Dropped as dew on the sorrow-tried heart. 

The deeds which your hands ceased not doing 
Have been of your life the blessed part. 

"For I ask of all those who are trying 

To follow Me far on the way 
That they scatter my mercies unending 

Wheresoever their footsteps may stray. 



170 



-^fes^^^>^^«^^^^fej^<i^ 



"Each link of your years is now telling 

My message of love to the earth 
While the choirs Angelic are chanting 

Hymns they chanted the night of My Birth. 

"Their 'Glory to God' they are singing, 
And there's Peace in your heart, Child, today, 

I, the Master, am sending this blessing 
O'er your spirit forever to stay. 

"Your Sisters love's gifts are bestowing. 

And I take them as offered to Me 
Your All has been Mine in the giving 

Mine shall yours for Eternity be." 



Five and twenty years, dear Sister, 
Years of labor and of love, — 

Years of toiling for our welfare 

That we reach Christ's Court above. 

Here, today, we count them over, 
While our hearts pour forth in song, 

While the joy bells peal love's anthem, 
And our festive notes prolong. 

Back we turn unto the hour 
When the Master's urgent call 

Brought you to His needy children. 
With the words of life for all. 



171 



A 



-%fe^s§^^^>^^^i^^^2fe^S^ 



Day by day you taught and labored 
Not by word of mouth alone, 

For the precepts you most cherished, 
In your daily life were shown. 

In the class-room or home circle, 
When with joy our hearts beat high. 

Or when sorrow cast its shadow 
Your sweet influence still was nigh. 

E'er it whispered in our gladness 

"Earthly hopes will pass away," 
And when mourning fell upon us 
"Darkness leads to God's bright day." 

So, 'tis meet, our dearest Sister, 
That all hearts unite in praise, 

Little ones life's path beginning, 

Those who've tried its devious ways. 

All, today, have formed a chorus 
Of most tender, earnest prayer. 

Plead with voice of grateful yearning 
Gifts for you most rich and rare. 

Gifts befitting God's own chosen 

Which not earth nor worldlings know, 

CrovsTi of jewels all resplendent 
With God's brightness all aglow. 



172 



In your fresh and glowing springtime, 

With smihng skies o'erhead, 
The green grass covering softly 

The path your feet would tread, 
A summons came — a whisper — 

You answered quickly, too — 
"My God, I give up all things 

My heart, my life, to You." 

The years have flown, dear Sister, 

As time with us e'er goes. 
And, today, we chime the silver bells 

And a quarter century close. 
Oh, would our tongues might tell you, 

The blessings we would bring — 
The golden graces sent you. 

From the Court of Christ, our King. 

We bring our gratulations 

With the prayer that all life thro' 
The silvery lustre of this Feast 

May gleam as sparkling dew. 
That when life's course is ended, 

A royal crown you'll wear, 
With the martyrs and the Virgins 

Christ's victory to share. 



^xlbtv ffirn^in far Clolbeit '^vaixx. 

Silver crown for golden brow 

Silver chimes for happy ears 
Which shall hear the "Come, Thou blessed!" 

Thro' the eternal golden years. 

173 



Just a line from the one who is absent 
Whose greetings, your ears miss today: 

But your heart-throbs should tell you most truly 
Your Agnes is not far away. 

What is distance to souls that are knitted? 

Every barrier, love may o'erthrow. 
So, I'm kneeling beside you this morning. 

Your face with joy's brightness aglow. 

We hear cherished tones at the Altar 
Assist at "Love's Sacrifice" grand, 

Receive, too, the Bread of the Angels 
While in holiest envy they stand. 

We vow, anew, life's immolation, 
Give our little, still giving our all. 

And He takes it — the Lord of Creation, 
Us His Spouses forever to call. 

Need I whisper what joys I would give you. 

What graces I'd shower, today? 
Oh, no word I could find half would tell you 

The blessings my soul's lips would say. 

Silver years I would turn into yellow. 

The brightest and purest of gold: 
Your heart I would fill with glad sunshine. 

Nor suffer it e'er to grow old. 

Friends the nearest and dearest around you, 
I would place until life's day were o'er, 

Then heart ne'er conceived all the glory 
To be yours on eternity's shore. 



174 



«=^^§^^^>^^^i^^^sfej^i^ 



doulb (31 ^t^al from tl\t ^uttltgljt tls (Solh^n, 

Could I steal from the sunlight its golden, 

From the skies overhead their rich blue, 
From the waters their shimmering silver, 

I would paint you a picture most true. 
For, your life — it is one of rare gladness. 

And your heart— it knows naught of dull care; 
While your river of time flows so gently, 

Banked with flowers, rich-perfumed and fair. 
Your years twenty-live, dearest Sister, 

Passed you by as the spring-time so fleet, 
Till we come with our simplest of treasures 

This Silvery feast day to greet. 
As we look o'er the years that have vanished. 

And think of the deeds they contain, j**.^ 

Of your rich store of graces from Heaven, jj i 

Of sorrows, privation and pain, ijjj 

We see that God's hand has been gentle 

In dealing out trials for you. 
He knows how you bask in the sunshine. 

Stretch forth your heart petals for dew. 
Could I paint you, 'twould be crowned with blessings 

Which the Spouse of the Lamb e'er may know, 
Surrounded by beauties of Nature, 

Loved by truest of friends here below. 
What my hand cannot trace with a pencil. 

Nor with brush unskilled fingers portray, 
This kodak will catch for you ever. 

And hold the impressions for aye. 



175 



The ground is covered with the purest snow of winter, 
Yet scarlet berries hang from drooping boughs; 
What is the meaning and who decked the branches? 
Who sent the vision — inmost souls to rouse? 
Resplendent on the calendar of Saints in glory 
A martyred soldier and a spotless maid we see; 
Sebastian leader of imperial guards, proud Romans, 
And Lady Agnes blossom of Rome's noblest tree. 
For Christ they suffered, thro' Him alone they conquered 
Nor lost such lessons on His followers, today; 
Still may we count the bravest, noblest-hearted, 

The tender maidens too, upon life's valiant way. 
'Tis five and twenty years ago, we're proudly telling 

Since she of whom we write, went forth alone. 

Not led by honor nor by vain ambition. 

To press the Master's footsteps reverently with her own. 

He came in to the world — we know the sacred story — 

To rescue sinners, helpless little ones secure 

To comfort those surcharged with life's unhallowed burdens 

To lead them to His fountains of water cool and pure. 

We count His followers by the hundred thousand 

Who pleasure, riches, honor, — all of these despise; 

The world proclaims their life supremest folly 

Which brings the joyousness of love past starlit skies; 

We hear, today, glad songs and sacred anthems 

And silvery bells send forth their sweetest chimes; 

We greet the heroine, our dearest Sister, 

And weave her life-work into simplest rhyme. 

How gladly would we name the myriad blessings 

She scattered o'er her way thro' arduous years now fled! 

What help she brought to sinners broken-hearted 

As back to virtue's path their footsteps sped ! 

176 



To tender infants and to gray haired matrons 

To guileless, erring, the unfortunate and lone 

Her heart and hands stretched forth with love's rich blessings 

To dry each tear or stray the sufferer's groan. 

God gave her much; He blessed her earnest toiling. 

Wrought marvels through her v^illing hands alone: 

Ah, He forgets not what we leave for others ; 

He takes unto His heart ourselves and all our own. 

And so, His loving care appears at cloudless dawning, 

Or when night's darkness o'er our spirits fall: 

Our Sister's life is filled with grace and merits 

Which came as answer to her prayerful call. 

Rejoice she must and all of us sing with her 

Te Deum to our King Who reigns above. 

May silver bells cease not their joyous ringing 

Till golden tones sound forth with chords of love. 



mifE ®mMmg fog ^bUb ^teetlg ®eU. 

The tinkling joy bells sweetly tell 
Of works for God you've done so well. 
Silver, today, for cares and fears 
And trials many thro' long years. 
The gold will come when life is passed 
And Jesus' smile is gently cast 
On each kind deed, each prayerful day 
Your five and twenty years portray. 



177 



®tentg-ft6^ '^tnvs for tl}B ^nsitx. 

Twenty-five years for the Master! 

And what does He give you today? 
Unworthy my pencil to write it, 

My tongue is not gifted to say. 
But I hear a soft whisper of blessing 

For sacrifice noble and true, 
And I fancy the joy of your spirit 

As the Master His gaze turns to you. 
"Well done, O my Daughter," He murmurs, 

"All you had, you have given to Me. 
From the wealth of My riches I pay you 

A foretaste of Heaven you see. 
Three brothers, three princes, My nobles. 

Even Paradise has nothing higher — 
An apostle, a shepherd most watchful. 

His co-workers with zeal all afire. 
They come to My altar with fervor, 

They bid Me descend from above. 
To take to My Heart their one sister 

And crown her with holiest love. 
Rejoice, then, My Spouse and My Sister, 

For your years an Eternity waits; 
Your sorrows, your toils, and your offerings 

Are welcomed beyond Heaven's gates." 



The Silver sheen, dear Sister, 

Will turn to purest gold 
When Christ says "Come, my Daughter, 

For age on age untold." 



178 



The fairest, sweetest, blossoms come forth in joyous May, 

The foliage is softest, the birds sing tenderest lay, 

The air is then most balmy, celestial, heaven's blue, 

The brooklet's crystal waters throw back the sun's bright hue. 

The hearts of young are throbbing with raptures of delight. 

Like bird and fragrant blossoms, their voice and smile are bright, 

They see no darksome picture, and dream no saddening dream. 

To them all things are lovely, more lovely than they seem. 

Beyond the earth's fair vision they rise on wings of prayer, 

Their soul of precious innocence its counterpart finds there 

What wonder then that softly a call they hear within 

To leave all fleeting pleasures, avoid the path of sin. 

To walk the way the Master in loving kindness trod. 

When He strove to bring all creatures unto His Father^ God? 

Today we count a period of five and twenty years, 

With a wealth of earnest gladness and naught of bitter tears 

The days were not all sunny, clouds sometimes hid the light; 

But they never were so heavy as to wrap the soul in night. 

From Michigan the northland, from Ohio's lovely gem, 

There came unto St. Joseph's — today we're greeting them, 

Two earnest fair young maidens knowing naught of earthly care. 

But with spirits warm and ardent, that greatest things would dare. 

They gave unto the lowly, with glowing hearts, their all. 

And hesitated never, to obey the Spirit's call. 

With Mother Seton's Daughters they cast their lots for aye. 

To do the nearest duty, as it offered day by day. 

God gave them talents many, which they doubled, yes, and more- 

Today in Heavenly records, the angels count them o'er. 



179 



-ttfe^^^^^>^^^i^e^2fej^i^ 



Our Sister Generosa fair Science led apart 

And oped her hidden secrets to mind and eye and heart. 

On classic roll her name is found, as earnestly she wends 

Her way upon Perfection's road, to virtue's height ascends. 

She blends all sorts of knowledge with wondrous light divine, 

And makes Religion's handmaids most gloriously to shine. 

Our "olive branch" dear Sister Olivia we call, 

And find her with the artists in Painting's royal hall, 

Of peace her name will tell us, her brush is peaceful, too, 

And delicate her touches with colors ever true. 

On priestly robes her blossoms grow as if with magic grace. 

And with wondrous beauty ever she adorns each holy place, 

The sanctuary's brilliant, with flood of light today. 

And the voices in the choir charm our thoughts from earth away. 

There's a silvery chime we're hearing from the regions, oh; so far! 

And each stroke is sweetest music with no discordant jar, 

The tender strain we're catching is the Jubilee chant above. 

Of our Sisters' exaltation their Silver Feast of Love. 



Your Sisters offer Silver gifts: 

Tho' simple still in form, 
They speak the true affection 

Of hearts sincere and warm. 

The Master offers Golden, 
On this feast of royal grace. 

And the Crown of Love He'll give you, 
When you meet Him, face to face. 



180 



Your are kneeling, dear Sister, this morning, 
As you knelt, five and twenty years gone. 

Your prayers are ascending to Heaven 
As they soared at Religion's first dawn. 

What you gave in youth's balmiest season, 
A heart by the world never owned. 

We find still untouched by its maxims, 
Resting safe on Love's altar enthroned. 

There reigns in your soul a sweet calirmess 
The Paraclete's priceless bequest — 

The gift which in darkness or sorrow 
Shows the path to the haven of rest. 

"Learn of Me," said the Master so gentle. 
And His meekness you've copied life through. 

Ah, it teaches those storm-tossed by passion 
What Heavenly kindness can do. 

It raises a bulwark of virtue 

No invisible foe may o'erthrow, 
And it offers a bourne of protection 

Where aching hearts trustfully go. 

It has followed you down through the passing 
Of twenty and five precious years. 

It will dwell with you on thro' Life's journey 
Keeping far away anguish and fears. 



181 



*%fe^jS^^^S^^^^^«^^^S^t^ 



Sweet notes of soft music are stealing 
Silver tones from Time's Century bell, 

But 'tis only the soul's voice, my Sister, 
The soul's truest greetings may tell. 

We come nov/ v^ith love freighted off 'rings 
Perfumed rich with the incense of prayer, 

And from Heaven we bear you a message 
That your crown and white raiment are there. 



^a&er fog lieUa ®eII % ^torg. 

Silver joy bells tell the story 
Of your five and twenty years; 
Loving friends bring gratulations 
Crowning of life's hopes and fears. 
God has blessed your varied pathways 
Smiled upon your efforts true; 
For this jubilee He offers 
Special graces — all for you. 
May the brightness of this feast-day 
Warmer grow with lengthened ray 
Till at last you'll spend another 
Golden feast — with God for aye. 



182 



Pktljlta^s^, 



We come, today, dear Father, 

As we oft have come before: 
We're gathered in this dear old hall, 

To call up scenes of yore. 
We go back half a century 

And step by step, retrace 
The semi-cycle finished, 

Of your noble, earthly race. 

As the sun upon his circuit. 

In midsummer, seems to rest 
At the solstice, looking proudly 

O'er all his works the best: 
So, today, it were befitting 

That you glance with honest pride. 
O'er the harvest rich you've garnered 

And scattered far and wide. 

Self never came before you, 

Nor comes she ever, now — 
A stranger at your hearth-stone. 

Whose claims you disallow: 
But, the needy, poor, afflicted. 

The forgotten and oppressed. 
Know well the pathway thither. 

And going, they are blest. 

Thus a father, friend, and pastor, 
Duties three, fulfilled in you. 

And your people glory ever, 
To these titles you are true. 



185 



Like the Master, His disciple 

Must take his daily cross, 
And following paths all checkered, 

Count pure earthly gains, a loss. 

You have felt the bitter anguish, 

Known that ingrates still may live. 
Learned that worth may merit envy: 

But you know best — to forgive. 
As in days long gone, the Vandal 

Was o'ercome by Jesus' name, 
And Might was forced to yield to Right: 

Such seems your constant aim. 

A change has come on all things, 

^Tiich your generous hand has blest, 
And the work will slacken, never. 

Till you fold your arms in rest. 
Our hearts as golden censers 

Filled with perfume rich and rare. 
Today we offer burning 

With the incense sweet of prayer. 

And we ask that years all golden 

With love, be given you. 
That hope and health, that strength and grace 

Each year, your life renew. 
For, the world needs those who show her 

That she's but a phantom fair, 
Who'll bravely raise the finger 

With the warning word— "Beware!" 



186 



We bring our little offering 

Had we only mines of gold, 
We would make it fifty millions. 

Yes, numbers yet untold. 
But you will take it, Father, 

With your children's wealth of love: 
Your gold is fast accruing 

In God's own mint above. 



^t ts ^nlh t{]^at (But Ptrti|bag2 ^rtng ^nhnt&s^ 

It is said that our birthdays bring sadness 

At the thought of the years which have flown: 

Yet, not true is this thought of the poet. 
Why should we life's progress bemoan? 

Added years to the true Christian hero, 

Bring a record of victories won. 
Show a summing of earnest endeavors. 

Speak of noble works, silently done. 

Age crowneth the Christian with wisdom, 
That knowledge which comes of the cross. 

Throws a halo of glory around him 
Bears him treasures instead of a loss. 

As the weeks roll around, dearest Father, 
And we hail with our greetings so glad. 

Your natal day's joyous returning, 
Our hearts are indeed, far from sad. 

As children beloved of our Father, 

And loving him well in return, 
We rejoice that each year finds you with us. 

And our souls with deep gratitude burn. 

187 



Our good is, we know, the prime motive 

Impelling your every work, 
Tho' hard be the task and enduring. 

No complaint in your kind heart may lurk. 

Accept, dearest Father, these tokens 

Of affection most deep and sincere, 
May our lives be a solace and comfort. 

May they gladden your pilgrimage here. 

When Heaven's great archway is opened 
And you've entered the portals on high, 

'Round your throne, blessing God for His goodness, 
May your children exulting be nigh. 



Fifty years and one have glided 

Safely nestled in the past: 
Not like things of earth, forgotten. 

Destined are they, long to last. 
First there comes the early off'ring, 

Sacrifice of home and friends, 
What to hearts is ever sweetest 

That which to life's pleasure lends. 
Marvel we, of minds still earthly, 

How heroic souls are formed. 
What's the charm in life secluded 

That so oft young souls has warmed. 
Purest water seeks the fountain. 

Fairest gems the darkness shun. 
Chosen souls love endless brightness 

Of the Eternal Father's Son. 



188 



Your Birthday comes in April 
The month of smiles and tears: 

And is it not a picture 
Of all life's fitful years? 

If choice to me were given, 
Except our Mother's May— 

I'd rather come in April 
Upon this earth to stay. 

For April hearts are suimy, 
And full of brightest dreams, 

E'en joy they see thro' sorrow, 
As sun, thro' rain-clouds gleams. 

They find the sweetest pleasure 

At April's timely birth. 
In noting plants and verdure 

Uplifting from the earth. 

They watch the swelling leaf-buds 
And the brooklet's crystal flow, 

As it chants its happy message 
To the river down below. 

Thus they find a wealth of gladness 
As the spring comes, o'er and o'er, 

Nor older grow each April, 
But younger by a score. 

With love their hearts are freighted, 
Their souls are full of peace, 

Their minds perceive the glory 
In Heaven ne'er to cease. 



189 



-^^2S^^^>^^^i?^^3fe^i^ 



I pray your life may never 

Feel care's dark storm-cloud lower, 
That sorrows press you lightly, 

As fall the April shower. 

May friendship e'er surround you 
With fragrance like the spring, 

Your heart pour forth its gladness 
As birds their carols sing. 



What would you give a dear, dear friend, 
If you could count all treasure? 

I'd steal into his very heart 
And learn his wished for pleasure. 

While little hands you know can't gain 

The riches of the many. 
Yet, little hearts may love you well, 

Yes, love as hard as any. 

Your birthday brings great joy to all, 
And down in grateful pleading, 

We kneel to ask our dearest Lord 
To grant what'er you're needing. 

Our wealth lies in His Own Sweet Heart — 

Our treasure there, unending: 
May His grace descend in fulness now, 

While your feast-day all are spending: 

With greeting warm of children's hearts, 

Accept this off' ring lowly: 
While knowing well, if more we had. 

That more, we'd give you wholly. 

190 



Heart-gifts are always precious, 

For ne'er can they be bought: 
In mines, the richest jewels, 

In seas, rare pearls are sought: 
But what we prize of all things. 

Spontaneous must be. 
So Friendship comes unbidden 

With offerings to thee. 



Thy friends with earth's fairest flowers, 

With Heaven's — far more sweet, 
Their prayers and benedictions, — 

Thy natal day would greet, 
They beg that peace most perfect 

Within thy soul may steal. 
To banish every shadow, 

And God's own light reveal. 

They know that all thy trials 

Are sent by God thro' love, 
That endless joys await thee 

In His Home of bliss above. ^j 

They pray that purest pleasure 

And friends sincere and true. 
Be thine on earth — God's own reward, 

The endless ages through. ' 



191 



(But Ptrtl}hags nvt ^tk-^tattes. 

Our birthdays are mile-stones declaring 
God's richest of gifts through life's day, 

From the dawn of our early existence 
Till our sun sheds his last parting ray. 

In childhood's first decade, the distance 
Seems greater and longer the way; 

In the second and third, space is lessened. 
And we fain would beg Time to delay. 

The fourth brings us serious lessons 
Deep knowledge forever to stay; 

For our souls the sad days of November 
Oft are better than sunnier May. 

The fifth follows then with its glory 
Reflected from shores far away; 

Beyond death are the bright rays eternal 
Which life's safest pathways display. 

'Tis your golden year tested, dear Father, 
In a crucible not made of clay: 

What the Master refines is the purest, 
Made perfect to work or to pray. 

May the decades to come have their fulness 
As youth's spring in its blossoming gay. 

In their richness be like unto Autumn 
Ere Death brings cold winter and grey. 



192 



Flowers are the sweetest things 

And I know you love them: 
They are almost bright as stars 

Twinkling high above them. 
They are counting: — hear them say, 

"One and seven times seven: — " 
Fifty golden years on earth 

Make millions up in Heaven. 



In a pensive mood, one eve, I wandered 

Down the corridors of days gone by: 
Many a scene my eager gaze attracted, 

Often, too, burst from my soul, a sigh. 
Now, a child passed by me in her rambles. 

What held time for her? then quickly crossed my mind, 
Was she destined for a life of pleasure, 

Or would she the better pathway find? 

Care or trouble seemed to weigh light on her. 

Not a shadow dimmed her youthful face: 
Yet, a token of a blessed future, 

Saw I there, some hidden, inward grace. 
Years passed on, the child becomes a woman 

Sixteen summers scarcely numbered are. 
When from earth she turns her thoughts to Heaven 

And 'gainst self proclaims a holy war. 



193 



At the Altar, bowed in lowly rev'rence 

To her God she vows herself, her all: 
Scarcely from on high had passed the summon, 

When she quickly answers the blest call. 
Time's great wheel performs its revolutions 

And each turn displays heroic deeds, 
Of the child, the maiden, now a woman 

As she plants in souls sweet virtue's seeds. 

Yes, around her many children gather. 

With their festal off' rings — gifts of love. 
Loyal hearts, beseeching choicest blessings 

To descend today, from Heaven above. 
And they ask of Jesus' Foster Father, 

Dear St. Joseph — thro' Life's toilsome day. 
E'er to guard and guide her pathway 

Light it o'er with Heaven's eternal ray. 



I've been musing and dreaming and thinking 
Of the days that are long past and fled. 

Of the hopes which they bore on their pinions, 
And how many lie withered and dead. 

I have looked at the aims of the mighty 
As they clambered to summits so high, 

I have seen them like lightning speed downward. 
Hopeless wrecks, there forever to lie. 

And as visions like these passed before me, 
A voice from my soul seemed to say: 

"Is there naught on this earth that is lasting? 
Must all things that are born soon decay?" 

194 



At these words, as with magical power 
Before me a casket was brought: 

On each ruby and diamond and emerald, 
Brightest records of life I found wrought. 

The gems in their brilliancy sparkled 
As I counted them eagerly o'er, 

And read of the years which they reckoned. 
Just numbering in all, fifty-four. 

The pearl of sweet innocent childhood. 

Its own lovely story revealed, 
As it lay in the lap of the casket 

By brilliant gems almost concealed. 

The diamond of Faith spoke of combats, 
Stern victories of heart and of will, 

Encounters with self and with others. 
But the arms only self seemed to kill. 

The ruby so red and made brilliant 
By love from the Heart of a God, 

Gave its records of kindness in pathways 
Where willing feet often had trod. 

The emerald tried, faithfulness pictured, 
The sapphire, self-sacrifice true. 

The opal reflected some others, 

And thus it was all the way through. 

So the casket mysteriously brought me 
To my soul a deep lesson thus taught, 

That on earth we may gain what is lasting. 
By each deed, every word, every thought. 



195 



Mother, list thy child's warm greetings 
On this day we love so well! 

All the blessings that we wish thee, 
Tongue, nor pen, nor words can tell. 

Of thy life, swift days have vanished. 
Fifty years and two are past: 
* But departing, each has 'round thee 

Sweetest rays of goodness cast. 

Of that brightness, we've partaken, 
Blessed we've been beneath thy care. 

Only those who've been thy children. 
Know what deeds thy love will dare. 

Cares and sorrows o'er thy pathway 
Thick are scattered by God's Hand: 

But thy noble soul endures them, 
Reaps their fruit for Heaven's land. 

Carefully numbered are thy conflicts, 
Vict'ries all to God are known: 

And He looks upon thee sweetly, 
For Fie counts them all His own. 

In the Sacred Heart's vast treasures 
All our means of grace we gain. 

There, our hearts with thine, dear Mother, 
We have linked in love's gold chain. 

May each sorrow be a blossom 

Fragrant of thy sacrifice, 
May the garland of them woven 

Ravish e'en Angelic eyes. 



196 



Dearest Mother, words are barren 
Heart's deep feelings to express, 

But God knows how much we thank thee 
And have asked Him thee to bless. 

May thy glory for hereafter 

By our prayers be rendered great, 

In eternity, dear Mother, 
Nothing can our love abate. 



"Howdy, honey, howdy?" on your natal day, 
Do the years come lagging, down life's shady way? 
Have the lights, or shadows of sweet days agone 
Lengthened out the further as the years roll on? 

I can hear the birds sing, as in days before. 
There are now no carols like the songs of yore; 
Blossoms, then, were sweeter in the orchards old, 
E'en the snow was whiter o'er the wintry wold. 

Violets were jricher in their purple hue: 

Meadow grass was sweeter glist'ning o'er with dew. 

Dandelions golden glorious then did seem 

As they raised their faces to the glad sunbeam. 

Bluest blue the heavens, fleeciest the clouds, 
(Oft a heavy darkness now our sky o'ershrouds); 
Emerald the greensward, perfumed rich the air, 
And our lives sped onward, knowing naught of care. 

Oh, youth's merry laughter, oh, the castles rare 
Which we built for others—all the world had share. 
Happy were our evenings, full of work our days, 
Every hour was lighted by love's brightest rays. 

197 



In the dear old chapel, oh, what bliss we felt! 
Seemed we near to Heaven, as in prayer we knelt. 
And the wealth of friendship ne'er could richer be 
Which God placed about us, — gave to you and me. 

Few are still remaining, many now look down 

From their thrones in Heaven, where each wears a crown 

Brilliant in its settings, — such as martyrs wear. 

For love they gave their life-work and won a victor's share. 

O'er the self same pathway, move our footsteps on, 
Till our life-term ended, we shall see the davm 
Of eternal brightness on that glorious shore 
Where our Father's welcome awaits us evermore. 



©Ills ts ^cttj^r's ^trtl^hag. 

This is Mother's birthday! Oh the joyous ring 
In all hearts and voices when they speak or sing! 
'Round the name of Mother, Love weaves magic spell, 
No other word we utter such tenderness can tell. 
Other tones may soothe us in our lighter cares; 
Only Mother's spirit our deeper sorrow shares. 
She knows best the heartaches we hide from other eyes, 
She gives truest counsel with loving words and wise. 
She can smoothe pain's pillow with Mother's touch alone; 
Her ear is first to notice the scarcely whispered moan. 
And her heart grows larger expanding with the more 
Which each day and hour brings to her o'er and o'er. 
There seems never limit to what she'll do and dare, 
God-given are her graces and heroism rare. 



198 



Joyously, dear Mother, we hail your natal day, 

Bring you warmest greetings for life's well-trodden way. 

You have known deep sorrows and great joys have felt; 

For Heaven smiled upon you as in prayer you knelt. 

To God's greater glory all your life's been turned; 

For the weak and lowly with charity you've burned. 

God has kept the record of each kindly deed; 

And your heart's desires for all in pain or need. 

He will from His bounty return, in royal way 

What to His least you've given, thro' Heaven's endless day. 

He will crown you victor in Charity's long race; 

And lead you to His Kingdom beyond earth's measured space. 

There with Saints and Angels and Our Mother pure. 

Your birthday you will celebrate while ages shall endure. 



Slust a '^tB 'ptttU '^tvst for '^our ^trtt|^hag. 

Just a wee little verse for your birthday 
Which calls up the many past years: 

What lessons of life they have taught us, 
Of our hopes and our loves and our fears! 

The sweet blossoms we culled in our springtime. 
Oh, their perfume is lingering still. 

And the music of early day's fancy 
Holds the rhythm of smooth-flowing rill. 

We dreamed not of sorrow's dread pathway 
Over which our feet often would cross. 

Our lives then so full of hope's gloiies 
We divined not, could suffer a loss. 



199 



One by one has the Master removed them, 
The ties which we thought ne'er could breal 

In their stead, He has given us wisdom, 
Made our souls to His promise awake. 

And, so, as life's ending draws nearer 
Our hearts all the tenderer grow; 

Each mortal some lessons of sadness 
And some dreary hours must know. 

Then, let us go forth, who are chosen 
And who bitterest tidings have learned; 

We shall reign with our crucified Saviour 
If by kindness, such honor we've earned. 



f Bars ^txtg-'(©ne ^xh f ou ^dl ^t? 

Years sixty-one did you tell me? 

And decades four given to God? 

When the world all around you was smiling, 

You forsook the broad path which it trod. 

You knew that its pleasures were luring. 

That its charms hid a poisonous tongue. 

That beneath the fair form of its beauty 

Lay a snare for the guileless and young. 

You felt a call deep in your spirit 

To comfort the desolate and lone. 

That God wished your help for the erring, 

And your heart to be always His own; 

Oh, we have looked on. Sister dearest, 

As year after year has rolled by. 

The marvels your zeal has created 

Are known but in records on high. 



200 



Your charity patient and boundless, 
As ocean which rolls grandly on, 
Sees no limit of night with its darkness 
Nor beginning with morning's fresh dawn. 
It lives with you always, my Sister, 
Is your food and your meat night and day; 
Oh, would that our tongues were inspired 
The least of your praises to say. 
But in fancy, we see the glad thousands 
Of Infant Saints throng to the Gate 
When your pilgrimage earthly is ended. 
With joy your home-coming to wait. 
They will carry you straight to the Master 
Whose cause here on earth was your own; 
He will give you a Virgin's fair garland 
And place you near Mary's bright throne. 



®oU tl|^ ^^Us ^aMg iat miytrlg ^nrs (^am 

Toll the bell sadly for thirty years gone! 
Time marches swiftly and steadily on. 
Even our brows his stem records must wear 
Chiseled thereon in the deep lines of care. 

Visions of "short" lives may haunt us betimes, 
Till our own dirges, we form in sweet rhymes. 
Plan out a youthful and tender demise — 
Alas! but few see with prophetical eyes. 

Tho' not possessing keen sight of a seer. 

Far in the future, I see thee still near: 

Therefore, I send, in this plain little box, 

A "Smoother", my dear, for you then, hoary locks. 



201 



Chime the bells gladly, this stormy March day. 
Let the fierce winds bear my greeting away. 
Let each silv'ry note rung in gladness and glee, 
Tell the fond hopes of a Sister, for thee. 

May of life, thy fourth decade already begun. 
End with rich treasures of noblest work done. 
Be we all blessings on the pathways we've trod. 
And at last live together in the Heart of our God. 



In years gone by. 
How oft have I 

Heard you so softly say: 
"In two years more. 
Mayhap before. 

From you I'll pass away." 

As I look o'er 
Those days of yore 

And count the years since then, 
I find for you 
Instead of two, 

A number close to ten. 

So now, you see. 
Your prophecy 

Has proved in fault your thought 
We're growing old 
A truth soon told 

And counted oft as nought. 



202 



Today I twine, 
(You're twenty-nine) 

A garland pure and bright 
Of roses rare 
And lilies fair, 

But all unknown to sight. 

I offer these 
That by degrees, 

Your heart indifferent grow, 
If you go West, — 
Just think it best — 

We're pilgrims here, you know. 

I pray sweet peace 
May never cease 

Within your soul to dwell: — 
Old Father Time 
Cuts short my rhyme 

For— there's the "Quarter Bell." 



I'm seated near my window and your picture comes to me 
Not as now in sombre garments, the garb of Charity, 
But as childhood's dainty blossom, — a sweet "forget-me-not," 
Your eyes of blue, so tender, e'en then gave forth love's thought. 

Your face so fair and sunny, yet grave, stole then my heart, 
While your silken ringlets falling played their own enchanting part. 
You were tiny, then, my Mamie, nor could "Auntie Agnes" know. 
You were playmg in the garden, all alone ~I found you so. 

203 



No introduction needed, our hearts sprang forth to greet 
And I felt that your maturing would bring me joys most sweet. 
You were a queen, my darling, in a home then filled with joy: 
Your Papa looked with pride on three, with George his only boy. 

Your Mama, sweet and gentle, not as old as you are now. 
Showed neither care nor sorrow on her smooth and tranquil brow. 
And Susie with strange dignity, for child of years not four, 
Must show me all the honors, whilst George would you adore. 

Down on his knees before you, as if to pay you court. 
Most seriously he did it, thro' love, and not in sport. 
Oh, what a happy visit! and with what thankful heart 
My prayers ascended ever that God His grace impart. 

Your Uncle Johnnie, dearest, felt the charms of that loved spot, 
But for its added happiness, he had no earthly thought. 
Then God a gift most precious, in Anna, sent to all: 
I can hear her baby prattle and her laugh like music fall. 

But ere she knew home's gladness, a shadow quickly fell. 
And brought a lasting sorrow, as all our hearts may tell. 
In quick succession taken, all our dear ones went to God; 
"Home" seemed for long none other than a place beneath the sod. 

Too young to know in fullness your loss, my precious four. 
You found your Aunties' hearts held, of love a mother's store. 
And there you nestled sweetly, whilst they mourned the dear ones fled, 
'Twere not well that lisping children should understand the dead. 



204 



Now, blessed be God! my darling, for His loving care of all, 
At morn, at noon, at eve'n. His benedictions fall. 
Your Aunties' hearts are gladdened by love's most sweet return, 
And for no other riches than virtue's wealth they yearn. 

They would see their precious treasures — God-given years ago, 
For the poor and sick and needy, with charity aglow. 
Tliey would have them sweet and cheerful, dark envy knowing not. 
The queenly gift of kindness found in every act and thought. 

They would wish their lives a spring-time, beneath the sun of grace, 
With virtue's fairest blossoms to beautify each face. 
That all their hope and comfort be placed in childlike prayer, 
At last with all our loved ones Heaven's endless bliss to share. 



^msthu^s. 



^rtmt ©mg "^tps, hut xEtng '^oxbs. 

From tiny lips, but tiny words 

I know are e'er expected, 
And this is why we Httle folks 

So often are neglected. 

If small in size, we're great in love 

As those of years maturer: 
Their learned speeches can not boast 

Affection any surer. 

For childish hearts can grateful be 

And love our Father dearly. 
And be rejoiced as older ones 

When his Feast-day comes 'round yearly. 

We pray too, at our Mother's shrine, 

For blessings without number: 
And ask for you a heavenly crown, 
When from earthly toil you slumber. 

We love to see you well and glad, 

Our own dear Father, ever: 
And pray that duty's call our paths 

May separate, here, never. 

When big we grow, and old, and gray. 
Our Father still we'll call you: 

And hope that thro' the years till then, 
No sorrow may befall you. 

And, now, dear Father, take our verse 

Humble in form and spelling: 
Yet, like our hearts, sincere, it tells 

The love within us dwelling. 



209 



Pofc Can a pttle (§ixl, §eai JfatlfBr? 

How can a little girl, dear Father, 
Tell you what the flowers say? 

Each fair blossom, like your children, 
Has its own sweet, tender way. 



Some would say, "We thank you. Father," 
Others whisper, "Much we love:" 

All would join in prayer's rich fragrance 
Soaring upward as the dove. 

So, I think, if you will listen 

You can catch each flower's thought. 

They have stolen all our wishes 
And of them this nosegay wrought. 

Blue, you know, reflects the heavens 

Guileless and forever true. 
Red portrays the Heart of Jesus 

Where your children all place you. 

White and purple, royal colors. 

Emblems are of priestly life; 
Green betokens faith unending, 

Gold your crown for mortal strife. 

While the flowers all are speaking, 
And our hearts with love o'erflow, 

That we offer gifts eternal 

Words of ours need not to show. 



210 



Pttly tilt 21og J^ells 0f Qllirtstmas, ^^ar 1if^ill|Br. 

With the joy bells of Christmas, dear Father, 
And the Angels' rich chorus of praise, 

Our notes full of gladness we mingle 
As our voices to Heaven we raise. 

With greetings we come and love's off'ring 

Though simple are both to unfold, 
For your children you know, dearest Father, 

Have wealth not of speech nor of gold. 

But we ask of the dear Infant Saviour, 
From the realms of His Father above. 

To shower all treasures upon you. 
But chiefly, the gift of His love. 

And we beg Him to add, oh so many 

Happy years — that your life may be long — 

That each Christmas you hear with new gladness 
The words of the Angels' sweet song. 



"A Merry Christmas! Father dear," 
We think sounds far more sweet 

When spoken by your little ones 
Than if the older greet. 

For Christmas is the Feast of Love 
And Feast of Children, too, 

The God of Heaven comes as Child 
To bless us all — and you. 



211 



When at His feet we kneel to pray 

For all we hold so dear, 
Your name in grateful words we tell, 

And ask to keep you here. 

Long, long we wish for you to stay, 
With grace your years abound, 

'Till Christ receives you at the last 
With richest blessings crowned. 



We can't sing or speak so nicely 
As the larger girls and boys. 

But we wish you, — every one of us, 
A whole heart full of joys. 

We pray the Infant Jesus 

Coming soon at Christmas-time 
And His Blessed Mother, also 

Gifts to bring you, most sublime. 

And we promise to try always 
Good to be, as old we grow: 

Of all the things that we can do 
It will please you most, we know. 



We have come to greet you. Father, 
And to pray your life be long: 

See, the happy faces beaming, 
All our hearts are filled with song. 



212 



Merrier birds the early spring-time 

Will not find in wood or dell: 
For, this day is yours, dear Father, 

Let our songs the tidings tell. 

Hail, three decades of your priesthood! 

Which we crown with these bright flowers. 
They are sparkling with the dew-drops. 

As your deeds with Heaven's showers. 

Here, carnations, white and ruby. 

Purity and Faith divine. 
Emblems meet, today, to offer. 

At affection's sacred shrine. 

Then the vale sends forth its lilies 

And its violets, so meek: 
"Be ye humble like the Master" 

Are the words these blossoms speak. 

Roses whisper queenly virtue. 

Charity within your heart, 
Springing up along life's pathway. 

Thorns despising with their dart. 

Ferns and leaves and vines of emerald 

Ah! they lend a magic spell, — 
Faith's old story, martyr's conflict. 

Wondrous history they tell. 

And we twine amid these blossoms 

Others known to Heaven alone: 
Angels make the off'ring for us, 

And your works the seeds have sown. 



213 



We have filled each tiny calyx 
With our earnest, fondest prayer: 

It will last when these have withered - 
All these flowerets sweet and fair. 

May the Saint whose day we honor, 
Send you from the realms above. 

Health and peace and grace unending, 
With the Spirit's smile of love. 



We come here today, with glad greetings 
Our hearts filled with joy and with song. 

Our souls winging upward to Heaven, 
In prayer that your life may be long. 

That each of the swift-fleeting moments 
May bear in its passage above. 

Of God's benediction the choicest 
The mark of His untiring love. 

We look thro' the cloudlets of Heaven 
And your days' written record we scan. 

The Angels present us the story. 
The life of a God-fearing man. 

We praise the All-Holy forever, 

That His gifts are not void in your heart, 
And we hope your example to follow 

And thus of your glory form part. 

So we wreathe of fond wishes a garland 
And gratefully crown you today. 

That your future be peaceful and happy. 
All your children most earnestly pray. 

214 



-^^aS^^^^^^^i^^^^^J^^ 



^emi of ^L 2(o0^pt|. 

Nature's heart is full of gladness, 
For the springtime comes again; 

Birds are singing, leaves are budding, 
And new life is given to men. 

In this month when winter leaves us, 
And hope springs anew to all, 

Dear St. Joseph has his Feast-day 
Bids us for God's favors call. 

He was Mary's kind protector 

Jesus' Foster-Father, too. 
He will guard Christ's Church forever, 

And will hear our prayers for you. 

He's your patron, dearest Father, 
So we know with loving care 

Each day's offering he will treasure 
And procure you graces rare. 

Every child reminds him sweetly, 
Of the Christ-Child years ago; 

Never will he spurn such pleading 
Sent to him from earth below. 

We shall ask him to add many 
Feasts to this we now enjoy. 

Till we earn with Him forever 
Heaven's bliss without alloy. 



215 



Happy Feast! dear Father, joyous day be this 
Harbinger of glory in the world of bliss. 
Great St. John, your patron in the courts above, 
Knows today, the fulness of eternal love. 

Here on earth he suffered, want and pain he tried: 
For he came as herald of the Crucified. 
Full his heart with longing near his God to be. 
Yet, when duty called him, bided patiently. 

It was deed heroic love like his to tame 
To wait and toil and suffer, till the mandate came. 
Welcome was the swordsman to give him Heav'n and God, 
For strife to him was nothing while on the earth he trod. 

List the grand eulogium! well might he all things scorn: 
"Greater man," said Jesus, "never hath been born." 
To your holy patron, likeness meet we trace: 
You have scorned earth's honors, joined the noble race. 

As the Baptist, daily, preached of penance due, 
So your life and lessons urge your children, too. 
Gratefully we thank you and of God we ask 
That with hearts all willing, we may ease your task. 

And when time is over, with St. John, may we 
Know an endless feast-day in eternity. 
And St. William coming with tomorrow's sun 
Gladly we remember his glorious course is run. 

He today's exulting, for he bore the cross. 
Counting earth's fleet pleasures only Heaven's loss. 
Like St. John, a victim, to atone for sin. 
The world could never enter his pure soul within. 



216 



Fled he from all comfort which e'en Saints may know — 
Great his thirst and longing love for God to show. 
Kind was he, to others, to himself severe. 
Zeal for man's salvation was to him most dear. 

Like your patron, Father, you, too, offer all 
For the grand fulfilling of Jesus' earnest call. 
While we chant our greetings, thanks we send above, 
For all blessings wafted from the throne of Love. 

May both Saints whose feastdays we celebrate with joy. 
To our cherished Fathers bring bliss without alloy. 
May your flock God-given wander not away 
But find with you the dawning of God's endless day. 



When I kneel in my place in the chapel 

And look at our masterpiece grand. 
Where the Father Eternal majestic, 

Turns to Gabriel at His right hand, 
I can hear the loved message he's taking. 

And I fancy his speed to the earth, 
To tell our Immaculate Mother 

The glorious news of Christ's birth. 

I see her astonishment holy. 

Of her soul's priceless pearl, note her care; 
Then how swiftly her "Fiat" is spoken 

When she knows that God only is there. 
And I think me how favored, O Gabriel! 

A mission sublimest of all — 
To carry the plan of redemption. 

On the Queen of high Heaven to call. 

217 



Then, e'en the bright Angel I banish, 

And stay with our Mother alone, 
As she kneels in apartment so lowly. 

All Heaven preparing her throne. 
Her soul's brightest whiteness enthralls me. 

Her bearing so humble and meek, 
And the voice of her prayers, richest music, 

For only in prayer does she speak. 

Then I muse on this life and its trials, 

And I trace all her anguish and care. 
How she suffered through love of us mortals; 

For, of sin, she had naught to repair. 
And I know that her title of Mother, 

God's Mother, would ne'er have been said. 
Had the tempter not entered man's Eden, 

If Eve his allurements had fled. 

So, with the great sainted Augustine 

"Happy Fault!" in my joy I exclaim. 
To ransom our soul's from sin's thraldom. 

Only thus, she our Mother became. 
Then I ask — With her love, what is sorrow? 

What care we how rough be the way? 
Tho' steep the ascent, shall we falter? 

'Twill be at the last endless May. 

We shall meet all our dear ones in glory 

Whose lives long were linked to our own, 
Who traveled life's pathway, so weary — 

And, now, they inherit a throne. 
Their spirits are near us and whisper: 

Have courage, our dear ones, keep on! 
You'll reckon life's hardships most precious, 

When the days of Eternity dawn. 



And, so, dearest Sister, we listen. 

For the tones of their voice still we love, 
With their brightest example before us 

Let us speed to our country above. 
Let us think how all pilgrims are weary, 

Faint-hearted, may be, far from home, 
And we'll gauge not the distance we travel, 

Nor the roughness o'er which we must roam. 

Onward, up! we shall cry with voice cheery, 

And so be to others a guide; 
We shall see in the far, far-off distance, 

The home where we all shall abide. 
The Spirit, the Father, our Jesus, 

His Mother, our Mother as well, 
The Angels, the Saints, all our loved ones, 

The words of our welcome shall tell. 



Thy China Day! 
'Tis thus they say 

So china gifts we bring thee 
Of plates for meat 
And biscuits sweet 

And cups for Java coffee. 

A sconce for light, 
With flowers bright, 

For rays of gladness sending: 
These vases fine 
Henceforth are thine. 

For fragrant flowers blending. 

219 



From out this font 
You'll water want 

Strange visions for dispelling: 
Ope wide your eyes 
Be ever wise 

Near enemies ne'er dwelling. 

Beware, beware! 
Avoid the snare 

That life full-long will last here. 
See your grey hair! 
Remember e'er 

Your better days are past, dear. 

You're thirty-eight, 
Before too late 

See to your life's amounting: 
Old age is such 
It can't do much, 

Make now, your life's accounting. 

And when old Time 
In deed and rhyme 

Farewell to you is saying. 
May Heaven's gate 
Your entrance wait; 

'Tis thus we'll all be praying. 



fife's a Parfare, ^U ^ust Jftgtit. 

Life's a warfare, all must fight, 
Who shall win the victor's crown? 

Is it he who timidly 

Shrinks and lays his armor down? 



220 



Glorious all and hero-like 

As thy name, thy works must be: 
If thy life is lived for God, 

Then thou' It speak of victory. 

Work with energy of heart: 

Nothing conquers here but love. 

Longest lives are short, at best; 
Struggle onward, Heaven's above. 

With sweet patience for thy shield 
Hostile darts will fruitless fall: 

God will count thy conquests great 
And Victoria thee shall call. 

In the years which are to come 
Be thy love and courage strong: 

All thy days with virtues filled. 
Thus, thy course of life be long. 



Old friends and old relics are dear to the heart, 
Then, with this memento, I pray thee don't part. 
I've prized it and kept it for many long days, 
The glow of my friendship its color betrays. 
Guard it carefully; keep it from curious eyes: 
Its charm, — nay, its value, in this really lies. 
May a halo more bright than this picture doth show, 
Surround thee for virtues performed here below. 
'Tis a Sister's best wish, from a heart full of love. 
That joys all-ineffable be thine above. 



"Five times eight and four times ten," 
Thus we counted, years ago. 

When our decades four began, 
Now our reckoning is not so. 

Deeds alone we note with care, 
Days and hours, weeks and years. 

Come on wings of love divine. 
Bringing joys and bringing tears. 

Joys, because God's work is done. 
E'en by hands as weak as ours; 

Tears for precious friends we love 

'Mid the world's sin-poisoned bowers. 

Foremost in the ranks are we, 
Of the Spotless Lamb a Spouse, 

In the ranks of those who strive 
Zeal for God and man to rouse. 

In the little child to wake 

Its first love and purest thought. 

For its great Creator — God — 

By His love redeemed and bought. 

Sick of soul or sick of heart. 
Weak of limb or weak of brain, 

In long lines before us file 

Form a moving, endless train. 

As Christ walked about this earth 
Every form of good to show. 

So must we, forgetting self. 
Of our love and help bestow. 



222 



We must dty the mourner's tear, 

And the aged footstep guide, 
Show the sinner God forgives, 

Conquering self and human pride. 

We must teach the Hsping tongue 

Names which make High Heaven rejoice. 

As His Spouses, we must be 

Kind in thought, in work, in voice. 

Then, the forty years will tell 

And they'll count not "five times eight," 
But God's own enduring years: 

For His reckoning, we can wait. 



Last evening, I entered the Chapel 

And stood 'neath the high-vaulted dome, 

I felt that God's Angels were 'round me, 
Tho* not yet has He made it His home. 

Its stillness, its calmness, its beauty, 
Filled my heart with an infinite peace: 

And the love born of visions celestial 

Came, my soul from earth's cares to release. 

I glanced at the cold marble columns, 
Stately guards stand they, menacing all: 

And "Of prayer is the House of My Father!" 
Seemed from arches re-echoed to fall. 



223 



Then, turning my upward glance westward, 
Your St. Thomas my raptured soul chained, 

And I said to myself —"He is gazing 

At the prize which his life-work has gained. ' 

I could hear thro' the ages his doctrines, 
See them shine, like the sun on his breast 

And the Dove a pure messenger bearing 
The Spirit's eternal behest. 

His garments of white softly whispered 

Of a purity fairer than snow: 
While his pen from the Fountain of Wisdom 

Seemed with truths all a-golden to glow. 

And I thought me of all the loved stories 

I had read in my earlier days, 
Of his conflicts and patience and vict'ries. 

His scorn of earth's pomps and its praise. 

Then, I bowed me in tearful confusion. 
As I thought of that intellect grand 

Which could pierce the vast secrets of Heaven, 
Yet a child in humility stand. 

Well chosen, your patron, my Sister, 
The links of the chain I can see: — 

Christ's "Suffer the children" and also, 
"Heaven's Kingdom of such is to be." 

I sought the sweet face of our Mother: 
For I knew she loves well this dear son. 

She was hidden: — that vision awaits me, 
When the artists' last touches are done. 



224 



These lines should have reached you March seventh, 

But a trav'ler way-worn was I, then, 
Tho' my heart, it was making you verses 

Ne'er traced by the hand nor the pen. 

May the Angel of Schools and their Doctor 

Your name in the first ranks enroll; 
God keep you and bless you forever! 

The sister and friend of my. soul. 



Were I poet of exalted vision, 

Who in golden words could story tell 

Of Aquinas* Saint, your glorious Thomas, 
On his virtues I would love to dwell. 

Yearned he only for transcendent glory: 

Asked by Christ, "Thomas, what reward?" 

Earth and all its fleeting honors faded, 

And he answered, "But Thyself, O Lord!" 

"Angel of the Schools," men call him ever, 
For his seraph soul the bond scarce knew. 

Which our weak materialistic spirits 
Holds, and limits all the good we do. 

Such his intellect that all the ages 

Since his time have come with bending brow; 
Men of sacred learning, pagan sages. 
All before him humbly kneel or bow. 



225 



Rich in knowledge, yet like child so sinless, 
Warmed with charity and love divine: 

Giving freely and submitting always 
Made his life with virtues rich to shine. 

E'en as little boy we see him hasten 

When the poor flocked to his father's gate, 

From the well-filled larder taking quickly 
Food their feverish hunger to abate. 

Suddenly he meets his angry parent 

Who demands, "What take you from our door?' 
Thomas, frightened, drops his gathered viands — 

Roses only fall upon the floor. 

Then the worldly-minded sire marveled; 

In that moment grace began to live, 
"Son," he cried, "as long as e'er our coffer 

Holds an obolus, 'tis yours to give." 

So, we see, 'tis thus the humbler virtues 
Raise a soul unto the heights sublime. 

To live with choirs celestial, endless ages, 
Must be purchased by good deeds of time. 

Holy Thomas, high thou art in glory, 

Far beyond our thoughts to dream or know, 

Send, oh send us rays from out thy radiance. 
To illumine our darkened path below! 

Give to her whose feast-day we are keeping. 
Brilliancy of mind and heart and soul: 

For, like thee, life's narrow path and straightened 
She has chosen to reach Heaven's goal. 



226 



You are treading a pathway, my Sister, 
Thro' a garden most fair to behold; 

There is verdure the richest and rarest, 

There are fruits and bright blossoms untold. 

Luxuriant foliage is screening 

Your form from the sun's scorching rays, 
While breezes most balmy are wafting 

Rare songsters' melodious lays. 

Refreshing the fragrance of flowers. 

Their tints — how delightful to eye! 
The cloudlets above smile a message 

As they flit 'neath the clear azure sky. 

Human voices are chanting love's anthems 

Which shall last when time's years are no more: 

For the Angels are catching the echoes, 
As to regions celestial they soar. 

'Tis Religion's fair Garden of Eden, 

Its beauties no heart can conceive: 
You prize them and yearn not for others, 

E'en tho' you are called "Little Eve." 



May is going, dearest Mother, 
And our hearts bid sad adieu. 

For we love the month of blossoms 
Month so sweetly named for you. 

227 



In its every grace and beauty, 
In its sweetest perfume spread, 

Pictured is your life, dear Mother, 
While on earth your footsteps sped. 

May is going, but you're with us, 
Every land 'neath Heaven's sky 

Sees rich temples raised to Jesus 
And His Mother's name on high. 

Lo! we have our own St. Mary's, 
Dearest spot on earth, we claim: 

Erstwhile John was Jesus* herald, 
We another John must name. 

Filled with love, he built this temple, 
Oped to man God's portals wide, 

Here dispensed the Spirit's graces 
And consoled poor pilgrims tried. 

In his footsteps walked his brothers. 

Fervor, sacrifice and zeal 
E'er have marked the Lord's anointed, 

These, our Pastors' lives reveal. 

Still another John we honor, — 

Mother dearest, many sons 
Gather 'round your glorious banner, 

Heart aflame till vict'ry's won. 

We are only little children 

But we bring this crown to place. 

On your image here with honor. 
Thus your queenly brow to grace. 

228 



PffJjat (Sinn (SLiixlhxm ^ag, ^tnv ^isto. 

What can children say, dear Sister, 

On this feast so loved by you? 
Oft the lips are wholly silent 

Tho' the heart beats warm and true. 

We are grateful for your goodness, 
Thro' long years, to each and all: 

Well we know 'tis for the Master, 
That your life is at His call. 

We have tried to pierce high Heaven 

With our earnest childish tone. 
Lay our prayers and fervent pleadings 

At the Angelic Doctor's throne. 

He has heard, and smiled upon us 

(So we know he loves you, too,) 
Gave a white resplendent garment 

And it now encircles you. 

Placed upon your brow a signet, 
That your soul and mind and heart 

Like his own should glow and kindle, 
Truths eternal to impart. 

We are happy, dearest Sister, 

In these Heaven-sent gifts of love. 
Earthly gold and gems most brilliant 

Are as naught to those above. 

With our love and deep affection 

Greetings glad, we speak today. 
That your life be filled with Heaven, 

Earnestly we hope and pray. 



^bbresses^ 



Ere the cold wint'ry days of the North have gone by, 

While the snow clouds still hover o'erhead in our sky, 

The "Sweet Sunny South" in its richness gives birth 

To fruits and to flowers, the fairest on earth. 

The wealth of its treasure, it gently unfolds. 

While the Frost King our soil in his icy grasp holds. 

In generous profusion, those riches come North, 

Bearing kindliest greetings to enliven each hearth. 

Like messenger birds, the glad tidings they bring 

That joys there abound, and herald our Spring. 

Its traditions, still true, have proved greater this year: 

From its bounty, dear Father, we welcome you here. 

Its gifts heretofore, would a passing joy lend: 

But, now, it has sent us a Father and friend. 

With gratitude deep, we bless that dear land. 

May God give it grace with a bountiful Hand! 

And you who have left it, a new flock to guide, 

Find you nought but to gladden, while here you abide. 

Our affections we offer, — a place in our prayer: 

In your kindness paternal, we beg for a share. 



We are little girls, dear Father, 
But we joyfully come to say 

We're as glad as the young ladies. 
Of your presence here today. 

Joyous greetings and warm welcome. 
In nice language, they can tell: 

Childish lips such words can't utter, 
But these flowers will do as well. 

233 



First this cross bespeaks the trials 

Making up your holy life, 
Anguish your companion daily: 

Every hour with care is rife. 

Then, each flower whispers sweetly 
That your hopes are placed on high, 

That you love not fleeting pleasures, 
Only those which never die. 

Children all should love their Father, 
And we wish to do our parts: 

So, we formed, of these sweet blossoms. 
Keys that will unlock our hearts. 

All your life to God is offered, 
Every work He's noted down, 

We have made this simple chaplet. 
Emblem of your future crown. 

With these offerings, dearest Father, 
Take our simple, earnest prayers, 

At our Mother's feet we place them. 
As a balm for all your cares. 



We, today, your children, here 
Sing out in prayerful notes and clear, 
The joy which shines from ervey eye. 
The joy which in each heart beats high — 
Thank God! our Father's safe at home! 



234 



From storms on sea, from storms on land, 
From perils great, from sorrow's hand: 
Our prayers like guardian angels bright 
Have changed the darkness into light 

And now, you're safe with us, thank God! 

The early spring brings gladsome days, 
With warbling birds and genial rays: 
Your coming holds far greater bliss 
And gratefully God's Hand we kiss 
For leading you safe home. 

At God's high throne on earth, you've knelt, 
The treasures gathered there, we've felt, 
And, now, we kneel in suppliant tone. 
To ask His blessing and your own: 

And whisper still "Thank God once more you're home! 



Bfe 'flenvn from ^ndtxd ^ag^s. 

We learn from ancient pages 

Of Leonidas the Greek, 
Who with three hundred soldiers 

Thermopylae's pass did keep 
Against the many thousands 

Who came with colors high 
To scatter the small handful. 

Who, sure, they thought, must die. 

We come today, six hundred. 
Your boys, we're proud to say. 

And in our heart's a spirit 
Which manhood cannot lay. 



235 



We bring to you, our Leader, 
At this happy Christmas-tide, 

A tribute of thanksgiving 
Of love, of boyish pride. 

You lead us. Where, dear Father? 

To the w^orld's broad battlefield 
And whisper "Seize your w^eapon. 

The foe is close, ne'er yield. 
Stand firm, the enemy in numbers 

Out counts the sands of sea. 
Yet, Religion's pass is narrow. 

There, the few may heroes be! 

"Put on the shield of patience, 

Cast worldliness aside. 
Be Justice e'er your watchword. 

The lowly ne'er deride." 
Such words you speak, dear Father, 

And, in your life, you tell 
Of self-devoted actions 

Which in noble spirits dwell. 

We'll follow where you lead us 

And tho' the coming years 
May spread our pathways widely, 

In your hearts shall dwell no fears 
That one of your six hundred 

Prove false to maxims high: 
But all shall meet hereafter 

Beyond the eternal skies. 

236 



-%fe^£§^g^^>^^^i^^^5fea^g^ 



Can you read, dear Father, in each heart and eye 
That we fain would utter never a good-bye? 
We have felt your kindness, rich our portion e'er. 
Generously given, each one had her share. 
We have stored the treasures given to our souls 
Sacredly we'll guard them, as time onward rolls, 
Kneeling in the Chapel, at the hour of prayer. 
When Holy Mass you offered, we brought our every care. 
For we knew, dear Father, as we bowed us low, 
At the Elevation, our wants to Heaven would go. 
You would whisper gently to God's Sacred Heart 
All our needs, and Jesus, his blessing would impart. 
That our Mother Mary you asked to place us all 
'Neath her snow-white mantle where evil may not fall. 
That you wished all blossoms of virtue fair to show 
Within each young heart's garden: forever there to grow. 
Among God's favorite flowers sweet gratitude we find 
And with its sacred garland our hearts securely bind. 
Ne'er shall we forget you, when on bended knee. 
We ask God's benediction with true humility. 
Other souls may need you, God on high knows best: 
Who follow Jesus closely, must give love's truest test. 
May St. William Parish bring you comfort sweet. 
With love and grace and blessing your every hour greet. 



Tho' the cold, bleak winds are blowing 
And earth's donned her gloomy dress, 

In our hearts, a gladsome spring-time 
Comes with stores of happiness. 

237 



Our wintry season's over, now, 
The void which long we felt, 

Sweet blossoms of affection fill, 
And snows of sorrow melt. 

Who seek to know the wherefore, 
Look at each one's glowing face. 

Let affections keenly insight 

There, the answer quickly trace. 

Home from regions distant. 

From the Indian hunting-ground, 

God has brought us back our Mother, 
And our souls with joy abound. 

Mother dearest, you are welcome, 
To your children's love and heart: 

Our holy bonds of union. 

Time or distance ne'er can part. 

What care we if all Nature 
In sombre garbs be dressed. 

When, within our own home-circle 
With love and joy we're blessed? 

Affection's purest radiance. 
No sombre shadows throw: 

It brightens all things earthly 
Forepictures Heaven below. 

The halo of such glory 

Around us now is cast: 
With our Mother, as the centre. 

It is destined long to last. 

238 



TTie weeks but slowly travel, 
In your absence, Mother dear, 

To make our home as should be. 
We need your presence here. 

In the Sacred Heart, we placed you 

When the journey you began. 
It has gently watched and kept you 
As that Heart only can. 

With grateful, loving spirits. 
We bow in fervent prayer. 

And thank that Heart the meekest. 
For its tender, loving care. 



And for our little Sister, 

A welcome warm we speak, 

But hint that in the future, 

Our vengeance we may wreak. 

Your new-formed tastes and customs, 
Tho* they date to "Grand Old Spain,' 

When accounts we come to reckon. 
Will plead with us in vain. 

Madeira grapes, and oysters 
From the Baltimorean shore, 

Lake fish, and Florida orange. 
Shall cross your lips, no more. 



239 



But, like some fairy vision, 
Shall this trip in future be, 

For, I assure you, dear one. 
Real life, henceforth, you'll see. 

In this present, joyous moment, 
Forget your future woes: 

Each one of us will gladly 
Forego the debt she owes. 



We are here, dearest Mother and Sister, 

Our welcome to speak and to sing. 
And our hearts are as bright and as cheery 

As the beautiful blossoms of spring. 
We have learned, in the months that have vanished 

What the home without Mother may be. 
That "there's no place like home" with your children. 

You have reasoned, we plainly can see. 
And, so, blessed be God! happy feelings 

Fall over our spirits tonight. 
While each face is reflecting the gladness 

Which comes, but of Heaven's own light. 
Weary days, weary nights were your portion 

As you sought our dear Sisters afar: 
But what peace and what comfort you bore them! 

As to Magi, the bright Eastern Star. 
We hope that their works to your spirit 

Were perfume, as Gilead's balm, 
That Charity's bond made their hearth-stones 

The dwelling of holiest calm; 



240 



That the poor, and the sick, and the erring 

Raised their hands, but your daughters to bless. 
While the little ones came as of olden 

From our Saviour to seek a caress; 
That the student with words of wise counsel 

Is led into realms of delight 
And taught that the dwelling of Wisdom 

Is placed on the Mount of God's Light. 
That you left the "Far West" with the comfort 

Christ would say to your children, "Well done!" 
Tho' they think all their efforts are fruitless 

And feel that they've only begun. 
You are home — and may home bring you blessings. 

We are happy — God keep us so long! 
May darkness of soul never banish 

The joy of this May evening song. 



dr^dtngs from '^tttle ©rptjaits vA. '^ax^aoh^ 

With the merry chiming of the Christmas bells 

And the joyous laughter which all care dispels, 

With the loving greetings of true friend to friend. 

Mingle we our voices and good wishes blend. 

Pray we, that all blessings rest on you and yours, 

Smallest deed of mercy, happiness insures, 

God who notes the sparrow, counts us every one, 

In us sees the image of His Onlv Son, 

Of the little Christ-Child as He came on earth. 

Angel choirs singing at His lowly birth:— 

"To God the highest glory, to men on earth be peace," 

His coming banished evil, and gave our souls release. 

We pray Him, as our Brother, each one of you to bless. 

And fold His arms around you in Christmas-tide caress. 

241 



(Eliftott. 

The woodlands wide are glowing 
With richest tint and hue; 

The sky above is showing 
Its deepest, clearest blue, 

While you are here bestowing 
The sweets of pleasure true. 

Our little hearts o'erflowing 
Would grateful words express. 

But God, all good things knowing, 
Your deeds will surely bless: 

For each of us is going 
Your favors to confess. 

We'll tell him how the hours 
We count from year to year, 

And ask His grace in showers 
To fall on all so dear 

Who fill these sacred bowers 
With peace and love sincere. 

To give to you who 're staying 
Within His Heart's retreat 

His virtues e'er displaying 
A crown of blessings meet. 

And all these prayers we're saying 
We place at Jesus' feet. 



242 



Our grateful hearts say "Welcome" to the guests assembled here, 

The friends who've watched our welfare thro' each succeeding year. 

Who've spared from their own comfort, their business and their home. 

Many golden hours, that the orphan might not roam. 

That we feel not pangs of hunger, nor unprotected be 

From the chilling blasts of tempests and the pain of poverty. 

We have home and every solace which the tenderest mothers give, 

And we thank the good God daily, that so happily we live. 

Our Most Reverend Archbishop, we all have learned to know. 

Like the Master whom he follows, is touched by ever>' woe. 

With charity unbounded and affection all divine. 

He would make all hearts beat joyously, each face with gladness 

shine. 
We feel we have a Father, Christ-Like in every way. 
For his daily life is lighted by Heaven's brightest ray. 
And as our benefactors, we name in fervent prayer. 
We scan their anxious hours, their days of toil and care. 
We pray that like the snowflakes, fall graces thick and fast, 
In return for nameless blessings which in mercy's stream they cast. 
The noble bands of workers to whom we owe our all 
On the Prince of the Apostles and Christ's Foster Father call . . 
St. Peter guards the treasures, holds the key of Heaven's door, 
His followers keep our coffers and add their goodly store. 
Faithful to the trust confided, honored both by God and man. 
The "Old Friends of the Orphans" do what e'en the noblest can. 
For long years have prayers ascended, and thro' many more they'll 

rise 
Till St. Peter bids them enter at the portal of the skies. 
St. Joseph, the protector of the Infant Saviour here, 
Looks with pleasure on his clients, as they toil from year to year. 
That we litde ones be sheltered— Want's path by us untrod. 
That we grow up to the honor of our Country and our God. 

243 



Cheerfully they take the burden, all our wants they scan with care: 

If our granaries be emtpy — of their own they gladly share. 

And so, in thankful melodies, our voices rise and swell, 

As our benefactors' noble deeds, both Heaven and earth can tell. 

We speak our warmest greetings and a welcome to you all. 

While sincerest thanks are tendered for our new and spacious hall. 

No morn shall bring its brightness, nor day of ours wane; 

But our lips and hearts shall plead with Christ for your eternal gain. 

May the New Year bring you treasures of home and heart and soul. 

And may they keep on growing, as unnumbered years shall roll. 

May a band of orphans lead you, when Life's full span is run, 

To Christ, and be His greeting, "Rejoice, my friends, well done!" 



Words of love and songs of gladness 
Greet this happy festive day; 

Here your children, dearest Father, 
Come their gratitude to say. 

Welcome home from lands so distant. 
Welcome to your children's hearts: 

Each one knows the wealth of blessing 
Which your kindness doth impart. 

As the days and years pass onward. 
Laden well with earnest deeds. 

For a glorious glad hereafter 
Each of all your children pleads. 



244 



To the throne of God in Heaven 
Wafted are our prayers for you, 

And they'll cease not till the dawning 
Of Heaven's morn breaks on your view. 

Take these offerings, trifles are they. 

Simple tributes of our love. 
Let them emblem the rich treasure 

Waiting you in courts above. 



Let this chaplet we've woven to circle thy brow 
Tell the love that endears thee to orphan hearts now. 
Your kind soul produces, here, virtues' sweet flowers. 
That shall bloom all-resplendent in Heavenly bowers. 
Your voice— when this life shall have vanished away, 
With Angels' you'll join in a glorious lay. 
For, the God of the orphan now looks down in Love 
On thee, Rose D'Erina, from His high throne above. 



^Abhr^ss of ®rpi|aits. 

We have thoughts far too deep for expression. 
We have loves that we name not in word. 

For our souls know emotions which only 
Our Father in Heaven has heard. 

Can we venture a farewell to utter 
To one who has made life so dear? 

Can we spare his warm friendship and guidance, 
When his voice meant all gladness and cheer? 



245 



Ah, how well do our hearts tell us sadly 

No other his place shall e'er fill: 
From the great world he turned with rejoicing, 

Bringing hither his strength and his will. 

Now he goes — shall our lips frame the sentence? 

Yet, we feel that his heart still must stay, 
Else a shadow would creep o'er our pathway 

Taking much of life's brightness away. 

Dearest Friend, should there come darkest hour 
(Which we pray — God forbid!) know you well, 

That the Orphans are ceaseless prayers telling 
While their souls with deep gratitude swell. 



As Jonathan and David 

In Bible story old. 
Or Pythias and Damon 

By Grecian poets told. 
Two hearts we know are knitted 

With a love which grows not cold. 

The years have come and vanished 
Old friends have passed away; 

New faces bring new fancies 
Is a lesson learned each day, 

These two souls have borne times trial 
Their heart-roses ne'er decay. 

246 



Oh, the years are stealing gently, 
Their hair is growing white; 

But the weight of time ne'er slackens 
Their footsteps firm and light. 

And they're quick as in their springtime 
To know and praise what's right. 

God bless them in the evening 

Of Religion's closing days. 
As on and up they travel 

Perfection's devious ways 
And give them both forever 

His love's enduring rays! 



247 



Hills and dales and streets of cities, covered o'er with mantle white, 
Shouts of school boys, sleigh bells' jingle, merry laugh of children 

bright. 
Dazzling windows, toys unnumbered, goods to catch the eye of all, 
With their radiant color tell us Christmas-tide is soon to call. 
As the Christmas is for children, oldest hearts seem young to grow: 
'Tis the blessing of the Christ-Child, wishing all but joy, to know. 
And the fathers of the household, prouder e'en than monarchs great, 
Listen to their joyous children as for Santa Claus they wait. 
List to wondrous tales and visions of his quaintest reindeer steed. 
Which will bring from Fairy Toyland, rarest gifts with matchless 

speed. 
While surprises, happy mothers, plan with care for each and all, 
Beg the Infant Saviour's blessing with His gifts upon them fall. 
Do they ever think how sorrow, of the deepest, darkest dye, 
Is the lot of many mortals and how sad is hunger's cry? 
Do they know that many infants, lovely as their own may be, 
Ope their eyes on Christmas morning not to brilliant Christmas tree, 
Not to meet a gentle mother's sweetest smile and fond caress. 
But to read in deep lines written, tales of sorrow and distress ? 
Or to know the pangs of hunger and December's bitter cold. 
And to be without a shelter, wand'ring o'er the wintri' wold? 
How the hapless mothers suffer, scarcely knowing where to turn; — 
That the world has little mercy, is a lesson hard to learn. 
God has sent in great profusion, gifts sufficient for us all. 
Some of us must be His stewards and the pains of want forestall. 
Bids us look the wide-world over, find the shelterless and poor, 
Give to them from out our plenty, what Life's comfort will procure. 
Happy fathers, blessed mothers, look upon your little band. 
Lay up treasures for their futures, giving now with lavish hand 
To the needy and the wretched, to the homeless and forlorn, 
Who have drunk the dregs of mis'ry, and have felt its bitter scorn. 

251 



God above, Who judges all things, will your deeds of mercy take 
As if to Himself you did them, and your cause. He'll not forsake, 
When, perhaps, the world so fickle, may its flattery reverse. 
And in time, you'll know its coldness and its haughtiness perverse. 
Then He'll silence tongues of slander, bid the tempest — "Peace be 

still!" 
And you'll know the Heavenly comfort that must follow at His will. 
Let the thought, you've helped another, mingle with your Christmas 

joys, 
It will make you feel the gladness of your little girls and boys. 
And the Christmas chimes so merry, and the Angels' hymn of love, 
In your souls will dwell forever, e'en in mansions bright above. 



Lo! the Infants' arms are opened, 
Raised on high His Hand Divine: 

As He welcomes all earth's children 
To the Crib, His Christmas shrine. 

"If you knew how much I love you!" 
Thus He speaks to every heart: 

"I became a helpless Infant, 
In your sorrows to take part." 

"Bring me offerings that I cherish— 
Charity's bright roses red: 

In the vale find purest blossoms, 
Grown in modest lily bed. 

"Violets of humble feeling. 
Fragrant buds of kindly thoughts, 

Scatter broadcast with My blessing, 
Mary's sweet forget-me-nots. 

252 



"There are lonely hearts about you, 
Feeble, sick, and sore-distressed: — 

Leave your pleasures, bear them comfort, 
Let the Christmas-tide be blessed. 

"But, of all things that I ask you. 
There is one most dear to Me — 

Help the Little Ones forsaken, 
Oh, I love them tenderly! 

"Richest grace I'll pour upon you, 
Temporal gifts in goodly store: 

For the smile of joy you cause them, 
You'll be gladdened, o'er and o'er. 

"Angel hands will write the record, 
Angel hosts your homes will guard: 

Heaven's Queen, herself, will offer. 
At the last, your life's reward." 



"A Merry Christmas!" to you all, 

I'm Santa Claus, you see: 
While gifts to old and young I bring, 

Yet, seek I — Charity. 

You think it strange that I should ask, 
Who, thro* long centuries sped. 

Have answered calls and carried gifts. 
Filled up my reindeer sled. 



253 



From year to year, I've traveled 'round 
I've gone from pole to pole: 

O'er mountains high, on rivers broad, 
Where ocean w^aters roll. 

Where homes are happy, plenty reigns, 
I'm looked for with delight. 

And all the gifts the world can show, 
Old Santa brings to sight. 

And oh, what joy it is to give! 

'Tis happiness untold — 
A pleasure earned by generous deeds 

And purchased not by gold. 



Come, then, respond with loving hearts 

I ask you, one and all. 
To give to me this Christmas-tide, 

Will you refuse my call? 



"What does Old Santa need?" you say. 

All things which children please; 
But most of all, Food, Clothing, Means, 

Which want and suffering ease. 

And I will thank you, but far more, 

The Infant Saviour, born 
So poor and lowly — He will bless 

Each giver, Christmas morn. 



254 



-^^c§^^^>^^^i^^^2fe^t^ 



(3ln ^cmnrtatn. 

Pierce the clouds which hang above us, 
See the golden portals swing: 

Thousand infant saints pass through them, 
And as angels sweetly sing. 

Close and closer still we see them 
Till they almost reach our sphere: 

While the melody they're chanting 
Ravishes our earthly ear. 

Now, they hover, in a circle. 
O'er St. Joseph Infant Home, 

With their cherished benefactors 
From a living spirit dome. 

Sisters Anthony and Augustine 
Crowned with diadems of Love, 

Mr. Butler robed in mercy. 
Seated on high thrones above. 

In the litde Foundling chapel, 

'Tis the hour for Holy Mass: 
Rev'rent worshippers bow lowly 

While uncounted moments pass. 

Sacrifice of praise is offered. 
And of deep thanksgiving, too: 

For the myriad blessings showered 
And the dangers safe passed through. 

Five and twenty years of labor, 
Not for gain and not for fame: 

But, e'en as the Master worked here. 
Those who act in His sweet Name. 



255 



Worldlings, cease your aimless hurry, 
All your mammon is but dross: 

For, unless you raise the needy, 
Hoarded treasures will prove loss. 

I was hungry, I was thirsty, 

"I a stranger all to you. 
Yet, you meat, and drink, and fireside. 

Gave with brother's kindness true. 

"Enter, now, beyond the threshold 
Of My Father's home above: 

Feast forever, drink from fountains 
Of th' Eternal Spirit's Love." 



^'bt ^Hh a %vik ^xi\\ ^g ^olfe. 

I've had a talk with my dollie. 

And told her all my care; 
For though I am only four years old. 

Of trouble I've had my share. 

For we are a great big family, 

As you can surely see. 
The youngest is just an hour old, 

And then, all the way up to me. 

I know we are more than a hundred 

Of every size and age: 
Sister wrote our names for Santa 

And it took the longest page. 



256 



So I am troubled sorely 

And Dollie dear is too. 
But I think what she said this morning 

Was very wise and true. 

She said: "If coal must be paid for, 

And flour for so much bread, 
And dresses for all the babies, 

And blankets for every bed. 

"I think you should write a letter 

To people who do not know 
There's such a big family of children 

Who are anxious to live and grow. 

"You tell them just where we are living, 
And of how many things we need, 

And they'll send far more than you ask them 
As soon as your letter they read. 

"But do not forget to tell them, 

That every morning and night. 
You'll ask the Christ Jesus to bless them 

And give them a Christmas bright." 

So I have obeyed my Dollie, 

And I'm watching anxiously 
To see if the friends I have written 

Will quickly reply to me. 



257 



'^ast ait|nstma0, ^g faille JVh£rtsch ^t. 

Last Christmas, my Dollie advised me 
To write to my friends, great and small: 

And, would you believe me? they answered — 
If not everyone, — nearly all. 

Would it sound very strange, if I'd tell them 
The promised "Good Times" are not here, 

And while I'm ashamed to call often 
There's naught else to do I much fear. 

For the cellar looks pretty well emptied. 
And the house full of children, you see. 

What else can we do, having nothing. 
But to go to those more blessed than we? 

Oh, the giver is happy in giving 

And his life is made sweeter fore'er, 
While those who receive must be grateful 

And show it in unceasing prayer. 

My Dollie says when Christmas blessings 
By the Christ-Child are brought to the earth, 

That we'll beg Him to give in abundance 
Our friends, the rich fruits of His birth. 

That the "Glory to God in the highest, 
"Unto men of good will, lasting peace," 

May bring to their hearts joy and gladness 
Till God's call shall give them release. 

Then, may they in Heaven rejoicing 

See the good which their mercy has won. 

When the helpless and homeless and hungry 
Bring their crown for a life-work well done. 



258 



^g ®I|Brc for ^ure a Ranter Ollaus? 

Is there for sure a Santa Claus? 

I wonder where he Hves. 
They say "to all good children 

Both sweets and toys he gives." 

In picture books I've seen him, 

Come thro' a fireplace wide, 
Because 'way up the chimney 

All day he has to hide. 

In this big house are chimneys 

But no great hearths at all; 
The steam pipes could not hold him. 

They're all too long and small. 

So, I'm afraid Kris Kingle 

Will never, never know 
That fifty little children 

Are longing for him so. 



259 



OG' 5»i. syiu 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



6 Ibio' 



